


In The Blood

by Downwiththeficness



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mating Bond, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downwiththeficness/pseuds/Downwiththeficness
Summary: Everything in her screamed that she was in danger, but she couldn’t move.  It wasn’t just his grip that held her captive.  It was the way his gaze was soaking her in, as if he could barely stand not to look at her.  The hand holding her forearm slipped down and to the small of her back, the other laying flat against the side of her neck.  His thumb rotated under her chin so that she was looking him in the eyes.“Finally,” he breathed.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue (Part One)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU fic--Brasa survived the explosion and went on to establish an empire. The character doesn't get a lot of development in the series, so I'm taking some liberties.

It started with a nightmare. She was standing chest deep in a warm pool and it was so dark that she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her. Below, her feet were pressed against the smooth bottom. She took a step forward, her mouth curling at the odd texture of the water. It was thick and stuck to her fingers as she brought them closer to her face. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the smell of copper reached her nose.

Throwing her hands down, she looked over both shoulders, trying to find a ladder, or stairs, out of the pit of blood. It stirred around her, clinging to the material of her dress and staining the white with red. As carefully as she could, she picked a direction and walked, her hands out in front of her to catch on any ledge that would allow her to get the fuck _out_.

Above the slosh, a sound caught her attention and she froze. Swallowing, she glanced carefully around, looking for the source. A moment later, it sounded again. Something was moving beneath the surface.

A kind of impotent panic welled up from her stomach, rising assuredly into her esophagus and burning at the back of her throat. She couldn’t stop the choked sound that fell out of her when the pool lurched, something creating waves at the surface.  Absurdly, she backed up a few steps, before forcing herself to stop. Maybe if she didn’t move, it wouldn’t notice her.

Hands hovering above the surface, blood dripping from her fingertips, she waited. Breath held, she blinked. Waiting. It moved again, this time towards her. Her hands balled into fists and she resisted the urge to shuffle even further backwards. When she couldn’t hold her breath anymore, it came out in short pants, air barely moving in and out.

Everything went still. Even the ripples of blood at the surface  stilled. She squinted into the red-tinged darkness, willing her eyes to adjust. They didn’t. Another tear fell across her cheek, and she almost moved to wipe it away, stopping when she remembered what her hands and most of her arms were covered in. 

There was another moment of silence, and then the blood in front of her heaved up towards her face. Hands reached out of  it and gripped her forearms, holding them still while the rest of her body arced away. Her feet slipped out from beneath her and she felt her body begin to fall. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced t o sink completely below the surface.

Except—she didn’t fall. One of the hands holding her reached out and gripped the back of her neck, hauling her forward against something solid and human shaped. She kept her eyes shut, her free hand pushing against whatever she could reach and finding no purchase.

A growl rumbled against her chest and belly and she pulled her lip between her teeth to keep from screaming. And then, more quiet. There was no doubt that she was being held immobile, but the grip wasn’t hurting her.  Her body was intact, though her psyche felt like it was going to crack into pieces.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, tilting her chin down from where she’d tried to turn away. It was a man, though it was hard to tell with the thick layer of blood oozing down from mussed hair. Dark hair. Dark brows. Dark eyes. She was pressed against him from chest to thigh and he was looking at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there. Her hands flexed, attempting once more to push away. A low sound of censure stopped her movements. Eyes wide, she waited.

He looked her over, assessing what he held in his hands. She flinched when he leaned down and inhaled deeply, the air filling his lungs  and down into his belly. His exhale was half a laugh, his eyes lifting back to her face.  A smile that wanted  to form on his face fell away. The hand cradling the back of her skull shifted and ran down the length of her neck slowly. 

Everything in her screamed that she was in danger, but she couldn’t move. It wasn’t just his grip that held her captive. It was the way his gaze was soaking her in, as if he could barely stand not to look at her. The hand holding her forearm slipped down and to the small of her back, the other laying flat against the side of her neck. His thumb rotated under her chin so that she was looking him in the eyes.

“Finally,” he breathed.

Lilah caught a flash of teeth that were entirely too long streaking across her vision before she found herself sitting up in bed, a scream dying in her throat.  She ran her hands over her nightdress, finding that it was white once more. Her arms were dry, her hair sticking to her face with sweat, though the room was freezing.

With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran her hands over her face. When it came to nightmares, Lilah was more than experienced. A pool of blood was a first. A blood covered man was also a first. She moved to the bathroom and turned on the shower, throwing off her nightdress and stepping inside. Her morning routine was completed without much thought. Today was not a day where she needed to pay attention to how she looked.

On the bathroom counter, her cell phone alarm went off. She turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Ten minutes to show time. Slipping on a comfy pair of pants and a light cotton t-shirt, she sat down and her computer and woke it up. After pushing her wireless headphones into her ears, she brought up the security feeds for the hotel she was staying in. She also brought up the team messenger and voice command programs.

“Everyone online?”

From the headphones, she heard various acknowledgments from her team members.

“Great,” she said, focusing on her laptop screen. “Let’s get started.”


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah goes on a standard job, and gets her second glimpse of Brasa.

She’d been feeling odd all day, an itch under her skin that, no matter how many times she scratched, wouldn’t go away. It feeling sat petulantly, reminding her that there was something undone. Needing a distraction, Lilah shifted as she glanced down at her phone. Beside her, Chewie rolled his eyes.

Lilah didn’t know what Chewie’s real name was, and she didn’t much care. He was three hundred and fifty pounds of wrecking ball and he always came through. Reliability wasn’t always something she found in people with her line of work. She appreciated it where she could get it.

“How’s Barb?” she asked, to pass the time, her thumb running along the edge of her phone.

Chewie smiled wide, “She’s good. Joined this Zumba group on Thursday nights. Gives me time with Joey.”

Lilah nodded, “He still playing baseball?”

“Nah,” Chewed replied, one hand lifting and falling with a heavy thud onto the steering wheel. “Tell you the truth, he’s not going to be a sporty kid. He said last week he wanted to learn to play the piano. Where the fuck am I going to get a piano that’ll fit in our apartment?”

“Could do one of those electric ones.”

He jabbed a finger at her, “That’s a good point. Maybe for his birthday.”

Lilah glanced at her phone again, “When is that?”

“About two months out. He’ll be ten.”

“Ah, double digits.”

Chewie scoffed, “He’ll be claiming he’s a man soon.”

She gave a soft sound of assent and turned her attention outside of the car. They were parked outside of a warehouse. Lilah had stopped counting the number of times she’d sat outside of warehouses, waiting for some schmuck to show up. This particular schmuck was half an hour late.

Said schmuck pulled up in a bright, shiny sports car that had Lilah rubbing at her temples. She looked at Chewie and then ambled out of the sensible Ford compact she’d rented for the occasion. With a shrug, she pulled her hoodie closer, her hands falling naturally into the pockets. Mr. Schmuck exited his too expensive car, pulling on his leather jacket to display a nice watch. Lilah made a mental bet that it was a Rolex. These kinds of guys always wore a Rolex.

“I got a call that I’m supposed to meet somebody,” Schmuck said with a sniff. “What the fuck am I doing here?”

Lilah stood a little ahead of Chewie. Although she was a little above average in height, she knew what she looked like next to him. Weak. Small. That was her intention and always was when she asked Chewie to come along with her on messenger duty.

“You owe a debt,” she announced. “I’m here to make sure you pay up.”

Schmuck had taken a loan against the house in a casino-slash-strip club-slash-whore house. She’d never been inside, but she’d heard things. It was just over the border, situated in the sweet spot where regulation didn’t quite have jurisdiction. It was the kind of place where people like her and Chewie made good money and people like the smirking schmuck in front of her got killed and dumped in a river.

“I don’t think I owe anything. I think I squared up when I left.”

Lilah shook her head, “I can assure you, you did not.”

He eyes twinkled, “You gonna prove that, honey?”

Honey. Baby. Sweetheart. Doll. They all called her a nickname that they thought would be demeaning. She’d heard it all in one way or another. A fixer didn’t get to the ripe old age of thirty five in this line of work without being insulted at every turn—especially a woman. She fought the urge to laugh.

“Listen, I’ve been authorized to broker a deal for you. I’m going to encourage you to take it.”

“Or what?”

_God_ , did the script ever change?

“Or, you’ll end up with your legs broken. For starters.”

Schmuck looked from her to Chewie and back. He seemed to take a moment to contemplate his position. Then, as Lilah thought he might, he pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at her. One handed, turned to the side like every gangster movie he’d probably binged as a child. She sighed.

One hand rubbing at her temple, the other lifted and made a sharp arc in the air. From a rooftop somewhere, a sniper took aim. Schmuck hadn’t yet noticed. The little red dot flashed at her, she smiled.

“You got a little something...just there,” she urged, gesturing to Schmuck’s chest.

He looked down, flinching as his free hand pressed ineffectively at his chest.

“I came prepared,” she pronounced evenly. “Now, I want you to drop your gun, then your car keys, followed by your watch, and that nice little ring on your pinky.”

Schmuck looked at her with wild eyes.

“Or, I can go ahead and shoot you and take those things, anyways. Your choice.”

He paused and she could see him weighing his options. He could fire at her, but he’d probably die as well. She didn’t have to know anything about him to know he was a coward. It took about ten seconds before the gun dropped and he followed her directives.

“Now, start walking. Don’t come back.”

She hoped this was enough to keep him from coming back to the bar. People who got in too deep didn’t get this kind of opportunity. A couple thousand in loans would turn into hundreds of thousands and nothing solved that but a body in the dirt.

Lilah watched him wander off for a moment before leaning over to Chewie, “You think he learned his lesson?”

He shrugged, “I doubt it. Looks like a trust fund baby to me.”

“Yeah,” Lilah agreed with a nod, “They never learn.”

And they didn’t. No matter how many times someone like Chewie beat the shit out of them, they just kept coming back. She didn’t understand why. They could get tits and ass anywhere. What was it about this place that made them make such shit-tastic decisions?

Lilah leaned into the car, looking for anything of worth. They’d have to drive it back to Chewie’s parts shop. His cousin did most of the work, but Chewie kept people from looking to closely at the books. He’d been laundering money since age twelve, when he’d first started brokering in stolen merchandise. Lilah had him do her, admittedly fake, taxes every year.

“Hey, Chewie?” She called out, looking over the open door of the coupe.

He turned and gave a little shrug that meant ‘what?’

“You know how to drive stick?”

Later, after pulling into the garage to trade in her rental, Lilah stabbed the elevator button and turned to survey the empty lot. She hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders while she waited. The evening was hot and dry. She wanted a shower and a drink, possibly at the same time. It had taken little to no effort to get the day’s haul completed, but she was tired. 

It was easy money, guaranteed to her bank account. Her handler had given her at least a dozen or so of these a month for several years. Still, she didn’t really know who was financing her. Her brain automatically cautioned her against this line of thought. It didn’t matter where the money came from. What mattered was that she got paid.

Movement caught her peripheral and she turned her head. Had the lights dimmed? It felt like the area to her right was somehow...darker. Without taking her eyes off the shadows, Lilah reached out and pressed the elevator button again. She squinted, trying to parse the objects in the shadows.

More movement. This time closer. She flicked her gaze to the stairs, wondering if she needed to run. Perhaps Mr. Schmuck had gotten pissed and followed her. Wouldn’t be the first time. Warily, she unzipped the side pocket of her pack and palmed the small pistol she kept on her for just such an occasion.

It was as if a dark fog had cleared, her vision focused on a figure standing in profile maybe twenty feet away. He was dressed head to toe in black. A dark leather coat hung over the broadest set of shoulders she ever seen on a man of his build. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, and she suddenly felt herself transport to a dream she’d deemed the result of too much late night snacking.

As if he could hear her panic, he turned.  He was wearing a pair of gold rimmed aviators despite the fact that the sun had already set. She took a step back, nearly falling into the open carriage of the elevator. The doors closed and she desperately pressed the button for her floor. From outside, a roar built, shaking the metal beneath her palms. 

L ilah alternated between watching the floors light up above her and the doors, half thinking that she’d see fingers wiggle through the tiny opening and pull them apart. The elevator moved without preamble, jerking upwards. She stepped back and gripped the handrail, metal biting into the meat of her palm.

When she reached her floor, she ran. Full sprint. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she headed for her car. Once inside, she sped it all the way back to the hotel. Every few miles, she looked behind her, as if he might be following her. It took until the moment when she was slamming the extra sliding lock of her room into place for her shoulders to relax just a bit. Still, she stared at the door, half thinking he’d slam through it.

It was quiet, only the sound of the air conditioning keeping her company. She let out the breath she was holding and pressed her hand to her forehead in relief. It wasn’t real. She was seeing things. Too much stress.

Sitting on the bed, Lilah ran her hands through her hair and tried to calm herself. It was the same man, though. She knew it without a shadow of a doubt. Even though the last time she’d seen him, he’d been covered in blood, she could recognize that proud posture, the sharp nose, anywhere.

“Get it together, McNamara,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “You’re tired. You’re just tired.”

Sliding to her knees, she opened the tiny fridge and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, yanking out the stopper and drinking from it. For a long time, she just stared at the blue patterned carpet, drinking periodically. Then, when her heart finally slowed, she picked herself up and headed for the bathroom.

Setting the bottle on the counter, Lilah pulled off her shoes and socks, leaving them on the floor and starting the water. While she waited for the shower to heat up, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was a little smeared from tears she hadn’t known she had cried, her cheeks dry with them. Irritably, she wiped away the smudges, taking another swig.

For a moment, she continued to look at herself, her stick straight hair falling limply to her shoulders. A bad bleach job had made her cut it short, a look she didn’t know if she liked. She was glad it wasn’t orange, anymore—now a box brown that was a little green in certain lights.

With a huff, she pushed that strands back and started to pull at her t-shirt.

“Querida.”

Lilah screamed and flung her body towards the closed door, another little whimper bursting forth when she was bodily pressed against it.

He was looking at her in disbelief again, gloved hands holding her hips. Her face was reflected clearly in the lenses of his glasses. She looked terrified. She felt terrified.

“Who the fuck _are you_?”

Before she got an answer, the lights flickered and he was gone.

  
  



	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah dreams of a man and a fantastic bed. We also meet her employer and get a little more background on her work.

The bed was glorious. Soft sheets, soft mattress, soft pillows. Lilah stretched long, arms above her head and toes pointed. It burned in her muscles, pleasing and warm. When she relaxed, she noted the very low light. Had she slept with the lights on again? She wouldn’t put it past her. Turning over, she closed her eyes and buried her face in the pillow. It smelled so, so good. Like coffee and liquid caramel. She pressed her nose into it and groaned, burying deep.

When she was young and working her first job, she was accidentally gifted a man’s cologne at a dirty Santa party. She’d liked it so much that she’d sprayed it over her bed sheets so that she could roll around in it. At that time, it was the closest human connection she could get. A short time later, she’d taken more controversial work. This smelled so much better. She wanted to add it to her bath so that her skin would smell it on her skin for the rest of the day. She wanted to pull the pillowcase in her mouth and taste it.

Body lax and pliable, it took far too long for her realize there were fingers running down the length of her spine, from neck to hips and back. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, continuously moving. Eyebrows coming together, she peeked outward to a form blocking what little light was in the room.

“Who are you?” She grumbled, feeling cranky. Lilah was too comfortable to muster up much more than that, certainly to comfy to feel fear.

His breath fanned across her shoulder, “Someone who has waited a long time to meet you.”

“That,” she replied, as she buried her face further into the pillow, “Doesn’t answer my question.”

He leaned over and pressed his mouth to the place where her scapula met her spine, “No, it doesn’t. But, it is true.”

Lilah frowned, though he couldn’t possibly see her face well enough to appreciate it, “Why are you following me?”

He tilted his head to the side and fixed her with a look that told her that her question was absurd, “It can’t be helped.”

It wasn’t until she started to flip over to face him fully that she realized she was naked under the silky slick of the sheets. Embarrassed, she bunched it against her chest as she tried to slide away. His expression turned disgruntled and he reached over to hold her by the forearm. The grip was firm, stopping her with little more than the pressure of his fingertips.

“Where are you?”

“What?”

He repeated the question, this time slower, lower. The timbre of his voice was laced with an undercurrent of something that vibrated over her skin. She just barely managed to suppress a full body shiver.

She swallowed and looked around, “No idea.”

The room was unfamiliar to her, and too dark to give her any clues. She couldn’t see beyond the obscenely comfortable bed and the man who lay within it.

With noticeable frustration, he rolled his eyes and lifted to rest his weight on the palm of his hand, looming over her. Lilah had to force herself to keep her eyes on his face and not the flex of muscle over his chest and arms. His body completed blocked the light and most of his face was in shadow, but she could see the faint outline of his mouth, pressed thin in displeasure. Lilah didn’t know what to do with the urge to catch the pouting lower lip with her teeth.

“Outside of here. Where are you?”

She blinked, “A hotel.”

“Where?”

Things started to go fuzzy and she felt her body sink and fall. She jerked away, the sheets tangled in her legs and the comforter kicked to the floor. She was sweating. Taking deep breaths, she tried to steady her galloping heart.

With a grunt, she pushed from the bed and made her way to the bathroom. This hotel was lower rent than the last few she’d stayed at. The bathroom barely had running water, let alone a working water heater. She turned on the lights and twisted her body around to look at the damage.

The job had gone a little sideways and she’d gotten scraped up a bit. Carefully, she pulled the bandage away from her skin. It was healing really nicely. She removed it and tossed it in the garbage can sitting below the sink.

After showering, she dressed and checked out. The car was already unbearably hot when she slid into the driver’s seat. To combat the arid air, she rolled all four windows down about two inches and pulled out of the lot. She had about four hours to make it to the next location and get set up. There would be no on-site work today, for which she was grateful. Just her, a computer, and the voices of the team filtering into her headphones.

The drive was short and she made it with plenty of time. She entered the empty building and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. Hauling her equipment up that many flights taxed her, despite the cardio she made sure to do several times a week. It didn’t matter how many miles she ran, stairs were a fucking nuisance.

She set up and logged on.

“McNamara online.”

A round of call signs sounded in her ears.

“Cool. Are we in place?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. This is a smash and grab, guys. Get the artifact, get the fuck out. Don’t go off-script and we’ll be through this in less than an hour.”

“Copy.”

From her vantage point, she coordinated security feeds and worked to cut alarms and then reset them as the team moved through the museum across the street. The objective was simple: A staff of some importance to a tribe in Mexico was on display. Steal the staff, deliver to the buyer.

True to her word, the team had exited the museum in less than an hour, no alarms set off, no police on site. She closed her computer and pulled the ear buds from her ears, wrapping the wire around her hot spot and shoving them in her bag.

With as little ceremony as possible, she exited the building and got in her car. The team would be waiting for her at a designated location where she would take the staff, pay them, and haul ass to her handler.

Everything went as planned, and Lilah had the staff in hand as she headed for the rental. She looked at it, a long length of wood topped with a crudely carved snake. Turning it her hands, she wondered what its significance was and why someone would pay a total of half a million to get it out of the collection of the museum.

After folding it into roll of fabric for protection, Lilah slid it into the back seat of the car and closed the door. She turned and ran her gaze over the parking lot, seeing no one, and opened the driver’s side door. The engine turned over and she pulled out with little incident.

Her body drove on automatic, her mind taking the time to parse the details of yet another dream. What kept coming back to her was the heat from his hand as it held her still. She could still feel it, if she focused on the skin of her arm. It was unnatural, feverish.

Her fingers twisted around the steering wheel. She was stressed. She was tired. She would finish this job and take some time off. Go up north and stay in a cabin until her brain worked out whatever this shit was. Jaw set, she nodded to herself, having made her decision.

Her handler’s name was Javier and she saw him a couple times a year. Most of their communication was either over the phone or through a secure email server. She liked him. He was extremely professional and always paid up. Any deal they made was written in stone, and he seemed to value what she brought to the team. Well, team was, perhaps, too generous a word. Lilah rarely worked with the same people twice—her deal with Chewie notwithstanding. It kept people from getting too comfortable, and kept the inevitable vendettas from getting too out of hand.

One of his favorite places to meet her was at the base of a mountain in the desert. With the sun setting, it had turned a bit cold and she threw on a hoodie before grabbing the staff out of the back and heading for a large, flat rock formation. The air was dry, and her shoes crunched on the ground as she walked across it.

Reflexively, she checked her watch. She was early. Leaning the staff against the rock, she hopped up and let her legs dangle over the side. Far outside the city, the light pollution was low enough that she could clearly see thousands of stars. The moon was just rising over the horizon, a sliver of a crescent that cast a blue glow over the landscape.

From far away, she could see the headlights heading towards her. As she watched them grow bigger and brighter, she slipped her hand to the pistol in her waistband and waited until the car pulled up next to hers and Javier stepped out. He left his headlights on, but turned off the engine. She let go of the gun and relaxed, resting her forearms on her knees.

Javier was short, clearing about five foot—barely. He was also well dressed. Crisp, three piece suits were his sartorial bread and butter. Tonight’s color was a deep burgundy, pink shirt, and black tie. Lilah thought he looked very smart.

“Looking good, Javier,” she called out, giving a little wave.

He stopped and gave a curt bow, “Thank you. You look as if you haven’t slept.”

“Gee, thank you,” she snorted, crossing one leg over the other, “And, here, I brought you what you asked for.”

Javier’s eyes glance at the staff and he approached it with something resembling reverence. With careful hands, he unrolled it from the fabric and held it aloft for inspection. Lilah didn’t think he was even breathing.

“What is it?” she asked lowly, afraid to break whatever spell seemed to hold him captive.

Javier’s dark eyes looked up at her, “A relic, used in blood rituals for hundreds of years.”

“Ew,” Lilah murmured, picking lint from her pants..

He chuckled a little, “I don’t expect you to understand. But, a long time ago, when my people were young, they sacrificed one of their own to the gods to guarantee their favor.”

She shrugged, having heard the legends off hand here and there, “What does the staff have to do with it?”

Javier held up the bottom end, “If someone was discovered to have betrayed the group, they were executed. The sharp end was shoved into their chest. True death.”

A shudder went through her, “Isn’t that a bit…” She trailed off.

“Barbaric?” He prompted with a smile as he rolled the staff into the fabric once more.

“Uh, yeah.”

Javier shrugged, “Only the greatest betrayal could warrant it. Its still done, even in modern society.”

She thought about it, “Good point.”

Tucking the staff beneath one arm, Javier changed the subject, “I have another job for you.”

Lilah was already shaking her head, “I can’t. I need a break.”

“Its easy. Just a visit to some old friends to pick up a package.”

She sighed and dropped her chin into her palm, “I need a break.”

Javier’s expression was soft, assuring, “After this, you take as much time as you need. And when you come back, I want to bring you up a level.”

Blinking, Lilah leaned back and studied her handler. She’d been working at this level for at least two years, and she had no ambition to move up in the hierarchy. She’d never once voiced the want to do more than what she was doing. And yet, here the opportunity was. Run the job. Get the promotion.

Javier waited patiently while she decided, though she doubted he had any thought that she’d turn it down. She’d never been the least bit shy about him knowing that she could be motivated by money. A steady pay check was security, a home she could buy when she wanted to retire, protection from the enemies she’d made when she was a younger, brasher, woman.

“Where is this job?”


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah makes a visit to Jackknife Jed's.

Lilah looked up at the ostentatious neon sign, her mouth curling just a little. Jackknife Jed’s looked to her like every truck stop diner she’d ever seen. Experience had taught her to know that it would be otherwise. She flipped her keys around her first finger a few times while she contemplated going in. There was no security, other than the industry standard cameras. The clientele looked like tired drivers and drunk locals. She’d worn jeans and a dark t-shirt, comfortable shoes in case she had to run. She wouldn’t stick out in this crowd.

With a deep sigh, she stepped forward and headed for the door, stepping inside with little more than a glance around. A band was playing something too punk rock for the location, no one was dancing. Everyone was drinking. Lilah spotted the bar and headed for it. The bartender was almost always the first place to start.

She slid onto a bar stool and swiveled around, waiting to catch her attention. Tall, long haired, with tattoos around both wrists, the bartender approached her with a smile and set down a cardboard coaster.

“What’ll it be?”

Lilah returned the smile, “Can I get a bourbon and coke, please?”

“Absolutely.”

While the drink was being made, Lilah looked around the room, seeing if she could spot her target. She’d been told she was small, pale, pretty, and powerful. The photo they had given her was taken from a distance, and she’d been wearing sun glasses. But, she was smiling, looking up at a man walking next to her. He was holding a cigarette, the exhaled smoke obscuring his face, but the dark rims of his glasses told her he was looking right back at the smaller woman.

“Six fifty.”

Lilah handed the bartender a ten, “Keep it.”

As she folded the bill between her fingers, she observed Lilah with a critical eye. “You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

“I am,” Lilah responded, “A woman.”

Interest sparked in her eyes, “Really?”

Lilah hummed in the affirmative, “Her name is Kate.”

Something cold flashed across the bartender’s face, and Lilah took a sip from her drink just so she would have something to do with her hands. Let her draw whatever conclusion she wanted, it didn’t matter to Lilah.

“Well, good luck. I hope she shows.” Throwing down a towel she was using to wipe down the bar, she added, “I need to get a crate from the storeroom, I’ll be back before you need a refill.”

She turned and walked off, sliding out from behind the bar and towards the back of the bar. Lilah watched her go and continued to sip at her drink. Either Kate would show up or she’d be hauled out of the bar. In either case, she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. Fatigue edged around her consciousness. The sooner she got through this, the sooner she could get some rest. Her nights were restless, sleep far away, her days were spent downing as much caffeine as possible to stay awake and get to the next location. It was exhausting work, and all Lilah found herself day dreaming about a bed and silence far more often that she’d like.

A shadow fell over her and Lilah looked up and to her left. He was handsome, dark hair peppered with gray, a strong jaw, lips curled in half a smile. His eyes, though, looked at her with scrutiny borne out of an immense distrust of people. She felt the same way.

“I hear you’re looking for a woman.”

She nodded, “A very specific woman. I didn’t just crawl out of bed with a hankering.”

The laugh that burst forth was cut off with a cough, his fist covering his mouth, “What do you want with this specific woman?”

Lilah turned a little to face him fully, “I think that’s between me and Kate.”

Casually, he lifted his arm and dropped it across the back of her seat, effectively caging her in. She forced her body to remain relaxed, took another drink to show she wasn’t intimidated.

“If you’re here to drag her back in with those _fucking snakes_ , you can’t tell them that we’re not interested.”

He’d leaned close enough that she could smell his aftershave and the cigarette smoke on his clothes. She met his eyes and kept her expression as neutral as she could.

“I don’t know anything about snakes. I’ve been told to pick up a package. That’s what I’m here for. Now, you can lead me to Kate, or I can tell my boss that—whoever you are— _you were uncooperative_.”

He stared her down and she didn’t really know what he was seeing, but he seemed to settle onto it. His shoulders relaxed and he signaled that bartender, who had returned in the meantime. She brought him a beer and he took it, leaning back and away from her.

“Seth,” he gestured to himself. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Lilah,” she answered. “Listen, I’d really like to get going. So, can I get the package and be done with this?”

He laughed, took a swig, and stepped away from the bar, indicating that she should follow. He led her through the crowd to a back hallway.  Lilah kept her eye on the people around her, in case one of them took it upon themselves to start a fight. She needn’t have worried, they weren’t paying attention to her.

They took a sharp right turn to an office that was...eccentric. Filled with movie posters and knick knacks, various weapons, and two desks sitting on opposite ends of the room. Seth leaned against one, Lilah kept herself between him and the door.

“The package,” she prompted.

“Don’t have it.”

Lilah cleared her throat and resisted the urge to scream. She settled for running her tongue over her teeth and putting her hands on her hips.

“Do you know where it is?”

“Nope.”

She looked at the ground, a pulse forming behind her right eye, the small amount of pain the only physical symptom of her internal struggle to not  grab the revolver sitting innocently on a bookshelf to her right and shoot him . He was saved by the door swinging open behind her and slamming into her shoulder. She let out a yelp and shuffled out of the way.

He didn’t so much walk in as saunter, and Lilah immediately recognized him from the photo.

“Richie,” Seth gave a wave to her, “This is Lilah. She’s supposed to meet Kate.”

Richie looked her over through his glasses,  one brow lifted in interest, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Seth confirmed, and she could hear the bite in his voice, “You know anything about this?”

“Nope.”

_Jesus Christ_ , she thought.  _I’m going to be here all night._

Lilah dropped her arms so that her palms slapped dully on her thighs, “Can someone go get Kate so I can do the job I came for and get back on the road?”

“They don’t have to, I’m here,” came a voice from the open door.

She was small, like they told her. And she looked young, not even twenty five. Lilah had to force herself not to flinch as Kate’s gaze met hers. The woman’s eyes were fucking ancient and they looked as tired as she felt.

“Great,” Lilah breathed, “Do you have the package?”

Kate hummed and strode over to one of the desks, opening a drawer. Lilah did not miss the way Richie’s eyes followed Kate’s every movement, as if  everything  in him tilted on her as a primary axis . It reminded her of another set of eyes looking down at her with fire burning behind them. She gave a mental shake.

“Here,” Kate prompted, “Tell your boss that getting that through customs was a real bitch.”

Lilah took the box and held it in front of her, pulled close to her stomach, “Thanks.”

Kate gave a little nod, “Do you know what it is?”

“Nope.”

“Do you want to?”

Lilah turned her head to the side and regarded Kate carefully. In her line of work, plausible deniability was worth its weight in gold. She didn’t need to know what it was to deliver it and get paid.

“I think I’m good.”

Eyes bright with amusement, Kate gave a perfunctory, “Fair enough. Tell them that we held up our end of the deal, the treaty holds.”

Lilah didn’t know what to do with that information, and her brain was kicking her to get out of the room before they said anything else she didn’t need to know. The box rested heavily in her hands, the cardboard giving just a little as she gripped it.

“You know,” Richie said as he pulled a pack of cigarette’s out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “Its a ballsy move to send someone like you in here.”

Lilah shrugged, “I’m just a contracted employee doing what’s assigned to me.”

He flicked a lighter, holding it a few inches from his face and said, “Bullshit,” before lighting the stick in his hand.

Although Lilah was very good at her job, her face and name were not well known outside of a select group of people with skills like hers. She wondered how their circles overlapped in such a way that they would know her by sight and first name that, as far as they knew, may or may not even be real.

Kate stepped back and ran a hand down Richie’s arm, “ She got what she came for, maybe leave it alone.”

Seth stepped up next to Richie and she was hit with the image of a brick wall. They moved together, both outwardly relaxed, but coordinated in a way that gave her pause. This wasn’t the first time they’d done whatever they were about to do.

“Wonder why you would say that, Richie. Want to elaborate?”

Beside them, Kate groaned and threw up her hands, turning away to sit in the desk chair. Lilah looked between the three of them and wished she’d brought a firearm. No way to hide it without putting on a jacket and it was too damn hot for that. Her palms began to sweat and she shifted her hands on the box to pull it underneath her arm. The better to run with it.

“Well,” Richie started as he tapped ash into a tray on what Lilah assumed was Seth’s desk. “It’s the smell.”

“Smell?”

“Scent, really,” Richie explained conversationally, hand flexing around the half smoked cigarette. “She smells like one of us, but she’s still—you know…” he pressed his hand to his chest and made a low rhythmic sound in the back of his throat.

Seth nodded and eyed the exposed skin, “No track marks, either.”

Lilah had, had enough, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I don’t have time for this.”

As she turned to leave, Kate’s voice cut through the male laughter, “Its the bond, Richie, and you know it.”

Lilah stopped, berated herself because she needed to  _walk away_ , and asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Kate observed her quietly for several beats before she pressed her hands to the arms of the chair and stood.  Lilah felt the hair on her arms stand up, and she couldn’t move if someone put a gun to her head.  The smaller woman held her completely captive with just her eyes and it was freaking Lilah out. Kate moved so close that Lilah had to drop her chin to look down at her. She blinked when Kate pressed a hand to her cheek and leaned in even closer.

“You don’t know, do you?”

Lilah shook her head, “I have...literally no idea what you’re talking about?”

“You will. They can’t stand to be away from you for very long.”

Richie cut in, “I did.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “Because you’re an idiot.”

“She’s not wrong,” Seth said with gravity.

_Okay, I’m good,_ Lilah thought as she took Kate’s hand from her cheek gingerly. She met the eyes of everyone in the room and stepped back to the thankfully open door.

“I’d say it was nice meeting you, but this was really weird and I’ve never been happier to leave a bar in my entire life.”

Seth laughed loudly and clapped Richie on the back, “Look at that, we still got it.”

Lilah could hear more laughter even as she hauled ass down the hall an into the bar proper. She didn’t stop until she was sitting in her car, the package safe in the passenger’s seat, and the engine coming to life. She pulled out onto the highway and speeding through a few red lights to put as much distance between herself and whatever _that_ _was_ as possible. 

It wasn’t until she stopped at a red light that she loosened her grip on the steering wheel and looked over at the package. She bit her lip, contemplating her decision.

“Fuck it,” she breathed and ran a palm down the edge of the box to slip her fingers beneath the lip. Inside, nestled into soft padding, was a cup. It looked plain enough and when she ran her finger over it, she felt the dry, aged clay that made its form.

A staff.

A cup.

Lilah shut the lid and tried to shut off the thought process that wanted to connect the two artifacts together. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself think about anything else, settling on the vacation she had planned. A month in Canada, as far away from Mexico as possible. Nothing but alcohol, snow, and quiet.

Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Lilah pressed her foot to the gas.

  
  



	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah returns from Canada and gets her next assignment.

She’d forgotten what the air was like here. The heat ate at her, soaking into her skin and clothes. The sun had never felt closer and she made a mental note to invest in sunscreen at her earliest opportunity. Lilah hadn’t expected to be away so long, but a month in Canada has stretched to two, then three. She’d slept almost a week straight and then spent the rest of the time working out, eating, reading, and drinking—as little human interaction as possible. And, the dreams had stopped. Her nights were once again restful and she patted herself on the back for knowing exactly what she needed to do to reset.

There was a car waiting for her at the airport, as Javier had told her there would be. She gave the driver a warm greeting and allowed him to load her luggage into the trunk. She would be driven to a hotel where she’d get her next assignment. Just like that. No easing into it, just right back into the work. It wasn’t surprising. Lilah very rarely eased into anything.

What was surprising was the hotel that the car stopped in front of. It was nice. Very nice. After years of rooms that were average to mediocre, at best, this was a big change. Lilah was immediately suspicious.

The room, or rooms (plural), were fitted with luxuries that she would have never paid for. Plush couches, stunning light fixtures, fresh flowers in vases that were edged in gold. It was lavish in a way that made her uncomfortable.

Javier sat smugly on one such couch, waving her over. He was wearing a dark blue suit, no waistcoat or tie, the white shirt open at the collar. It was probably the most dressed down that she’d ever seen him, and that, more than the opulent room, was disconcerting.

“Sit! How was your flight? Good?”

Lilah nodded in the affirmative, “Yeah, the flight was good.”

“And your vacation, it was sufficient?”

She knew that Javier had taken her extended time off with not a small bit of dissatisfaction. But, he’d let her have it when he could have threatened her contract. She was grateful.

“It was. I really needed it.”

His smile was all teeth, “Good. Now, we have business.”

Lilah listened while he outlined what he needed her to do. It was a fairly simple operation. There had been a leak, nothing serious, just a contractor who had talked too much to the wrong people. Javier wanted her to assess the situation and manage the collateral damage. He trusted her judgment. She accepted the thumb drive and agreed to meet the team in the board room of the hotel as soon as she’d cleaned up and gotten settled.

After Javier took his leave, Lilah leaned back on the couch and stared at the complex entertainment set up. She wouldn’t use it. TV, streaming or otherwise, was set aside while she worked. She spent every moment of free time either in a car or at a computer, running point. She stood and grabbed her luggage and hauled it over to the dresser, unzipping the front pocket to pull out her laptop and cell phone. Lilah set them aside and turned to look at the bed. Even though she’d just been on a three month vacation, she really wanted to sink into that mattress.

“Another hotel?”

She wasn’t ashamed to say she screamed. High pitched and ragged from her throat, the sound seemed to echo off the tastefully taupe walls. Her hands covered her mouth, hanging open in shock. She credited herself for not flinging her body across the bed to the other side of the room. The shock of seeing him after three months of silence kept her rooted to the spot.

He looked at her levelly, hands in the pockets of a pair of black slacks that were cut so well for his body that she was sure they were tailored specifically for him. Lilah returned his look, breathing hard through her nose. She’d forgotten how tall he was, forcing even her to look up at him. Her throat was dry, she couldn’t speak.

After another moment of his close regard, he moved forward, pulling his hands from his pockets and taking three long steps forward until he stood half a foot from her. Very slowly, he reached up and pulled her hands from her face. He stepped forward into her space, placing her palms on his chest. To Lilah, he felt real and solid beneath them, and just a touch too warm. She noticed that he was wearing the gloves again.

“Where have you been?”

Her eyes shot up from their hands, and she took a moment to collect herself before answering, “Canada.”

His thumbs rubbed against the outside of her wrists, a slow rhythmic motion that had her swaying just a little on her feet. She started to pull away, but his fingers tightened just a fraction in warning.

“So far away,” he murmured, almost to himself.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. His presence was making her feel outside of herself—disconnected—and yet every nerve was firing full throttle. It was as if her body had been lit up from the inside, shaking loose the malaise of her time away. She hadn’t realized that she’d closed her eyes to the feeling until one of his hands left her arm and cupped her jaw. Lilah swallowed and looked at him.

He licked his lips and she followed the movement, inhaling sharply. Coffee and caramel. She didn’t think she’d be able to associate that scent with anything but him for the rest of her life. It was burned into her memory like the feeling of his hand running along the length of her arm before it dropped and gripped her hip. Everywhere they touched was warm and tinged with static.

Lilah felt him breathe deep, his eyes closing as he leaned down, “You’re close now.”

Close was one way to put it. His hold had pulled her into his body so that his nose brushed her cheek. Her fingers curled into his shirt, nails scraping the fabric as she was pulled taut in his hands. Tentatively, far more tentatively than she would have thought him capable, he pressed his lips to hers. He held them there for several beats, as if waiting. Lilah didn’t think she was breathing. She sure as shit wasn’t thinking.

He broke away, but only to change the angle and to run his tongue over her bottom lip. Lilah would have been embarrassed by the moan that fell out of her but she was too busy being very thoroughly kissed. Long, deep kisses that were somehow too intense and not nearly enough. If she thought the scent of him was good, his taste was unbelievable. Her hands reached up into his hair to hold him to her as she gorged herself on it. Nothing could be better, and she wanted more.

With a groan, he wrapped both arms around her and hauled her up so that she was on her toes. Unprepared for the quick movement, Lilah gave a little squeak. She could feel him laugh a little into the kiss before he became otherwise occupied with mouthing along her jawline. In retaliation, Lilah carded the strands of his hair through the fingers of one hand and made a fist, pulling gently. He hissed against her skin, one hand falling to her ass and grabbing a handful. She felt him widen his stance a little, hips flexing forward so that she could feel him begin to harden against her.

Despite the fact that she really, _really_ wanted to keep kissing him, Lilah’s brain finally kicked into gear and she pulled her hands from his hair. He made an entirely too endearing sound of displeasure as he lifted his head to look down at her. The words she wanted to say died in her throat as she gazed up at him. Mouth a little swollen from her kiss, eyes blown wide with want, the intensity of how he regarded her had her dropping down from her toes in shock. Her calves thanked her for the rest.

“Stay close,” he whispered.

Lilah blinked, “I’m right here.”

His hands flexed against her and he opened his mouth to reply, but his head whipped to the side. He stared across the room for several seconds before he looked back at her. Lilah’s brows came together in confusion and she almost voiced the question on her tongue. But, when she blinked, he was gone and she was off balance enough that she stumbled.

Pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she shook her head vigorously. She could still taste him, and his scent lingered on her clothes.

“I just _got here_ ,” she growled, as if to censure the universe for throwing her back into the deep end. 

She breathed deep, saying, “No. No, no, no. Get your shit, go to the board room. Do your job.”

The board room was...about as lavish as she expected. The table was ornate and covered in a quarter inch thick layer of glass to protect the wood. A protector screen was already up and running, a picture of someone she didn’t recognize on display. There were no windows and the room was dimly lit.

She entered and sat down, noting the three men in the room, none of which she recognized.

“Javier sent me.”

A man with hair so blonde it was almost white looked at her over rimless glasses. He was wearing a white button up and a striped tie. She couldn’t tell, but she thought he might also have a pocket protector.

“Lilah, right?”

She nodded.

“That guy,” he pointed at the screen, “We need to take care of—quickly, discreetly.”

Lilah looked at the picture on the screen. He was maybe eighteen and was wearing a beanie and  over-sized sweatshirt. His facial hair hadn’t really filled in, but he was making a valiant effort at growing out a mustache. 

“We lost a shipment because of him.”

She dropped her gaze to the source of the new voice. He was mid-thirties, black, hair cut so short that he was almost bald. He spoke with an accent that she couldn’t place.

“What kind of shipment?”

His eyes didn’t blink, “Does it matter?”

She shook her head, “Not in the least. Let’s get started.”

Afterwards, she closed down her laptop and said her goodbyes to the group. She doubted that she would ever see them again, if the past was anything to go by. Still, a plan was in place. All she had to do was get the  g uy to the rooftop of a building,  see if he would tell her what he had said out loud, a nd the rest of the team would take care of it. Lilah knew what would happen  from there , and she knew that it wouldn’t end well. 

As she stood in the elevator, Lilah felt tiredness creep in. She’d put the ‘incident’ out of her mind while she sat in the board room, but, now that it was quiet, she had a hard time steering her thoughts elsewhere.  She wasn’t asleep, and this wasn’t stress. And, she was having a hard time  believing that her mind could come up with that detailed a fantasy while suffering from jet lag. 

Stepping out of the elevator, she turned and headed down the hall to her room, keying in and shoving herself through the door. She dropped the key onto the side table and let her laptop fall onto one of the couch cushions. A bath. Then, bed.

Stretching, she grabbed a change of clothes from her luggage and slipped out of her shoes, padding to the bathroom. Blindly, she reached inside and turned on the lights, closing the door behind her. The first clue that something wasn’t right was the temperature. It was hot. Really, really hot. Lilah closed her eyes and tried to center  herself. 

Huffing, she turned and opened her eyes. Before her was a long hallway, a red light shining throughout. Voices filtered towards her. She took a long moment to debate whether or not following them was a good idea. Looking over her shoulder, Lilah found that the door was gone, replaced by the brick wall. She rolled her eyes. Forward, then.

Carefully, and as quietly as she could in her socks,  she slipped down the hall, one hand out in front of her, the other tracing along the brick.  The hallway opened up to a large, domed room filled with people. There was a palpable energy in the air, excitement on everyone’s faces. Lilah pressed herself against the back wall, sliding to the side. 

Cutting the room into thirds were two rows of church pews. A cursory glance to the front of the room presented her with wide slab of stone about waist high. Behind it stood the staff, on it sat the cup. Her eyes widened and she felt the air go out of her in a way that left her dizzy and weak. Knees buckling, she gripped the wall and forced herself to move further forward.

As she rounded a column, Lilah caught sight of a familiar leather jacket. She hopped forward and pressed her back said column, hoping he hadn’t seen her. What was he doing in a church? What was  _she_ doing in a church, for that matter? How was he connected to the staff and cup, and the diner, and Javier?

He spoke in a halting, sharp language that stung her ears, but she couldn’t stop herself from easing around the column and looking. The crowd was absolutely silent, and she could see them moving forward eagerly. Keeping low, she moved to another column, closing the distance between them. Column by column she moved, until she was nearly parallel to him, watching the side of his face as he continued to speak.

Lilah didn’t understand a word he was saying, it didn’t sound like any language she’d ever heard, but she could read his body. He was angry, and with his anger seemed to come a heat that billowed outwards. Sweat dripped from her temple down the side of her cheek. It dropped down her jaw to her chest, running between her breasts and over her stomach. Her palms slipped on the stone.

His speech rose to a crescendo, and he pointed to the crowd. There was an audible gasp, and a voice that spoke quickly. She knew that tone—pleading. The woman was brought forward, struggling against the grip of two men. Lilah felt her chest tighten, her mind already three steps ahead and screaming at her to look away.

The woman was laid on the altar and he stood over her, talking lowly. Lilah recognized that look.  _Don’t kill me,_ it said.  _Please, I’ll do anything._

He was unmoved, and there was a  ferocity in his expression that  chilled her , despite the oppressive heat of the room. One gloved hand slid down the woman’s chest to her belly, and then in a quick,  jerking movement, it was inside of her. Reaching up through the rib cage. Lilah felt her stomach turn as she watched him dig further, heard the woman’s screams. 

After a moment, he pulled free, holding a snake high in the air. A roar build among the crowd and she thought she saw some of their faces distort grotesquely. He held the snake high for a few beats, then tossed it into a fire burning behind him. The woman on the altar screamed, a high, unearthly thing to Lilah’s ears.

She felt bile rise up into her throat as he reached back inside the woman. A second later, he was holding her heart in front of him. With his free hand, he picked up the cup and squeezed. Blood poured from the heart and the woman beneath shuddered before exploding into dust. Lilah’s jaw dropped, barely believing what she was seeing. It didn’t make any sense.

Leaning against the column, she watched him toss the heart into the fire before lifting the cup in a salute to the crowd.

“Oh, don’t do it,” she breathed, knowing that he would.

He drank deeply, taking down the entire contents of the cup as if it were water. Lilah swallowed, gripping her stomach as she tried not to throw up. The world tilted sideways and the knees that had been threatening her for the last several minutes final delivered on that threat. She fell to the ground.

Vomit covered the tile floor of the bathroom, Lilah pressed her face to a clean square, glad for the cool stone. She stayed there for a long time just to make sure she wouldn’t heave again. Then, she stood, wiped her face, and wpied up her mess.

Later, when she lay in bed, she thought about what she had seen. She wasn’t stressed. She wasn’t drugged—she’d not eaten or drank anything that wasn’t sealed. That left...crazy. Lilah was going crazy.


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A betrayal and an explanation.

Driving across the city always took longer than she thought it would. Lilah was thankful that she’d been able to leave early. Absently, she flipped her phone between her fingers while she waited on a red light, her brain picking at her that something didn’t seem right. She’d scouted the rooftop, she’d done more research than was necessary. Something just wasn’t adding up. The blonde guy from the meeting, he’d said something that just didn’t sit right.

“We’re very interested to see how you do with this?”

Lilah had looked at him with surprise, “Handling a boy who talks too much? If anything, I’m overqualified for the job.”

Blondie laughed, “We’ll see.”

_We’ll see._ It was the way he said it that kept coming back to her. Lilah had been  thrown a softball just when Javier had asked her to level up. She should be paying off politicians and lobbying for leniency at customs, possibly running point on market research and expediting shipment of product (she didn’t need to know what kind of product). Instead, she was quieting a little bird who chirped.  It was  strange .

“If you keep making that face, it will stay that way.”

Lilah nearly swerved into oncoming traffic.  She righted the car and looked to the passenger’s side. Strange man? Check. Gold rimmed sunglasses? Check. Her sanity? To be determined.

“Oh god,” she breathed, “I’m losing it.”

His chuckle was almost derisive, “You’re half right.”

Lilah jabbed a finger at him, “No, you do not get to make jokes right now.”

He shrugged and settled a little further into his seat, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Did you—what?” She sputtered, “I’m sorry, I think I have a right to be a little testy when—a week ago—I saw you pull a snake out of a person, followed by her heart.” She tapped her hand on the steering wheel, “And, _oh yeah_ , you _drank her blood_.”

His head tilted to the side,  considering her. His hands moved to fold in his lap, one thumb pressing into the meat of his hand, “ So, i t works both ways.”

He didn’t even looked surprised, or sorry, or guilty, or anything that she would have expected after she had revealed what she’d seen. There was a pause as he processed, but her mouth had started up and Lilah just couldn’t stop it.

“Am I in the wrong, here? Is that what’s happening? Because I still haven’t decided if I’ve been hallucinating or not. Seriously. I’ve half a mind to check myself into a hospital for psychiatric evaluation.”

She ran out of steam, both hands on the wheel as she navigated traffic. Beside her, she could feel the weight of his gaze. Lilah refused to look at him—angry and off-balance weren’t a good look for her.

“Is that all?”

Her head snapped around so quickly, she felt her muscles cry out in protest. When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up both hands. Lilah’s jaw clicked shut and she turned her attention back on the road. Carefully, she inhaled and exhaled, calming herself.

“You don’t know what you saw,” he said, tension in his voice.

“No,” she replied. “I don’t.”

What she saw was a waking nightmare, with little to no context, and despite years of inuring herself to bloodshed, the violence ate at her. She turned off the highway and down a few blocks, following the navigation in silence. He leaned his elbow on the window, saying nothing, eyes forward. Lilah didn’t like the silence.

They arrived at the location and Lilah cut the engine. “I can’t do this right now. I have to finish this job.”

She heard him sigh deeply and she pushed down the part of her that wanted to turn in her seat and ask more questions. It took effort.

“I live to serve.”

And then he was gone. She sucked in a breath and forced her body to steady. Do the job. Go back to the hotel. Figure it out later.

Lilah exited the car and pulled her hoodie around her, one hand running over the gun she had tucked into her waistband. She checked her texts one more time, reading the confirmation she needed. Then, she pushed her phone into her pocket and headed inside. Her target was already being worked on, from the sound of it. Rough thuds, skin hitting skin, a grunt of pain.

She entered the room and took in the scene. He was tied to a chair, and a man she didn’t recognize was hitting him across the face. Standard protocol.

“Easy,” she called out, “I need him conscious.”

Seeing that her directive was being obeyed, Lilah took a spare chair and sat it in front of the target.  She sat on the edge of, keeping her feet braced in case she needed to move. 

“Rafe,” she called to get his attention, “I need you to tell me who you talked to.”

Her target, Rafe, spit on the floor between them, blood combining with the mucus. Lilah kept her expression neutral.  He looked at her with both eyes swollen, his nose hadn’t yet been broken.

“Who did you talk to?”

“I didn’t fucking talk to anyone.”

“You did,” Lilah prompted, “At the bar. You were in the VIP booth, with a couple dancers.”

Rafe looked away, and she knew that she’d gotten good information.  He wasn’t old enough or experienced enough to play this kind of game very well. 

“Listen,” she urged, her voice low and smooth, “These guys mean business. You said something to someone that cost them money. That’s not acceptable. If you tell me, I will ask them to go easy on you.”

He looked at her in a way that told her that he knew she was lying. She nodde d, c onceding the point.

“Okay. If you tell me, I’ll shoot you, myself. You won’t be tortured. That, you can believe in.”

Rafe looked like he was weighing his options. His feet flexed on the ground below him. Lilah caught just a bit of movement before hauled himself backwards onto his hands. There was a sickening crunch of his bones, and then the oddest thing happened. He gave a little wriggle, and managed to slip the bindings.

Lilah stood and pulled her gun from the waistband of her pants, she trained it on him carefully.  He was grunting in pain, but still moving, pulling himself free and rolling to his belly.  There was something strange about the way he was moving—unnatural.

“You don’t want to try that,” she asserted in a tone that she hoped would stop him from getting up and bull rushing her.

Her teammate took a step back, and she spared him a glance. His entire job was to keep Rafe in line while she questioned him. Why was he standing there?

A kind of snarling hiss sounded from the ground, and Lilah felt her spine straighten. She spread her stance and moved her finger to the trigger. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to improvise. Wouldn’t be the last, either.

With careful steps, she put a little distance between herself and Rafe, clocking her teammate leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, relaxed. Something wasn’t right.

Another hiss sounded, and Rafe’s head shot up, fixing her with  yellow, reptilian eyes. The entire bone structure of his face had changed, scaled forming along a protruding forehead, two long, dripping fangs falling from his behind his upper lip.  Lilah caught the sound that wanted to burst forth and clenched her jaw. Rafe dropped low, readying himself for attack.

She cursed, and then did the only thing she could think of. She ran.  The door to the exit was maybe a hundred yards away, but as she ran for it, she saw that it had been chained and locked behind her. How had she not heard that?  Who else was in the building?

Lilah took a sharp left and moved up the stairwell, adrenaline pumping through her system and giving her the ability to take five flights without her muscles giving out. She pushed through the rooftop doors and headed for the North corner, where she’d been not a few days prior, scouting.  In the back of her mind, she congratulated herself on memorizing the layout of the building before she left. The little bit of extra prep had probably just saved her life.

When she reached it, she pulled her phone out and checked the time. Two minutes. The door flew off the hinges, and Rafe came through.  It landed with a loud thunk, and she could see imprints where he slammed his shoulder into the solid steel. 

“You know,” he said, sliding forward with unnatural grace, “If you give up now, I’m definitely going to torture you. That, you can believe in.”

Lilah hated it when they turned her words against her. She lifted her gun  with a sneer and aimed.  He continued moving closer.

“Won’t work on me, sweetie.”

She pulled the trigger, anyway.  Twice. The bullets ripped through the night, echoing off the nearby buildings.  Two sharp sounds that rang in her ears. They didn’t do any good, as she somehow suspected  they wouldn’t, despite all experience pointing to the contrary . From the door came her teammate, his gaze curious. She released her hold on the gun with one hand and flipped him the bird. He chuckled and stood next to Rafe.

“Who did you talk to?” he asked Rafe conversationally.

Lilah blinked,  _Is he really going to keep going with an interrogation?_

Rafe eased away, “Doesn’t matter.”

Her teammate placed a heavy hand on Rafe’s shoulder,  “I think it does.”

Lilah’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she shifted to stand on the ledge of the building. Right on top of the black painted ‘x’ that she’d drawn for this specific outcome.

Below her, Rafe smiled, his strange bone structure taking the expression and turning it cruel, “You don’t have to do that, honey—or, do it. I’ll eat your brains from  off the side walk.”

“Tell me, Rafe,” Lilah said, flicking the safety on the gun and putting into the pocket not holding her cell. “Who did you talk to, really?”

“Oh, fuck it,” Rafe huffed, arms akimbo, “It was some guy named Javier.”

Lilah concealed the betrayal that would have shown on her face by turning and jumping off the roof. Below, a large dump truck with  an inflatable bed  that may or may not have been crafted from a bouncy house  had been parked in an exact spot marked for the occasion. She fell into it with a loud, unfeminine grunt, rolling a little as  the truck took off. 

After gathering herself, she crawled to the front of the bed and hauled her body up and over the side, reaching out and opening the passenger door. With not a little maneuvering, Lilah pulled herself into the seat, shut the door, and put on her seat belt.

“Guess you’re glad for the back up plan,” Chewie said with a smile.

Lilah nodded, “Yeah, I’m glad for it.”

Rubbing at her face to clear the faint dizziness that came with free fall, she pulled out her cell, shut off the alarm she’d set, and pulled up a website she’d saved. She then purchased a small, but well reviewed, electric piano and had it shipped to Chewie’s shop. Lilah hadn’t gotten Joey anything for his birthday and she owed Chewie for coming through on this.

As she entered the too nice hotel room, Lilah made a mental note to report the rental stolen the next morning. Right now, she had to initiate all the emergency protocols  she needed to get out while she still lived . Her entire life would have to be wiped clean and she’d have to start over. Mexico was out, as was most of the Southern United States. She thought about the cabin in Canada.  _Maybe._

“You look remarkably well for having taken a five story dive off a building.”

_Fucking Javier_ .

Lilah put her hand in her pocket and felt for the safety on her pistol. She flicked it off and gripped the gun as casually as she could,  aiming for him from the hip.

“Don’t forget being lied to by someone I trust.”

He nodded, adjusting his tie. It was white, to match the suit, which matched his shoes, and so forth. All white.  _What a drama queen_ .

“That was unavoidable. An unfortunate necessity.”

Her mouth thinned, “A necessity for what? I thought I had proved myself already.”

Years of checking and double checking her status and position—every shitty hotel, every night spent in sleeping in her car, no friends, no family contact, nothing but the job. She’d done everything right.

Javier smiled, “Your loyalty has never been in question.”

Lilah sneered,  “Then, what?”

He stood from where he sat on the couch and Lilah watched him button his suit jacket warily. She kept distance between them when he started to approach.

“We needed to know what you would do if you saw something...strange.”

She laughed, “You mean the fangs?”

Lifting her hand to her chin, she extended two fingers and wiggled them. Javier nodded sagely and she rolled her eyes.

“This could have been a conversation instead of a set up. Probably would have cost you less in overhead, too.”

One hand rotating outward, Javier gave a little flick of his wrist, “I wanted to see what you would do under pressure. I needed to see if fear would make you stupid.”

Insulted, Lilah felt her mouth turn down, anger burning in her belly, “I’ve been in a lot worse situations than that.”

He looked doubtful, “You couldn’t have killed him with a bullet. What would you have killed him with?”

She scoffed, “I don’t know, maybe the knife that whoever the hell else was there should have had on them.”

“Knives won’t do it. Neither will bullets. Takes a lot to kill a culebra.”

Lilah refused to ask what the fuck that was. Javier put his hands in the pockets of his slacks looked around the room. She recognized the habit. He had more to say and trying to figure out how to say it.

“What I do, the real work, is keep little idiots like that in line for those higher up than me. It would be a very bad thing for the world to know they exist beyond fairy tales.”

She shifted on her feet, trying to track his thought process, “So, you want me to do it, too?”

“No,” replied with a shake of his head, “I’m quite good at my job, and quite successful. I have another job for you.”

Lilah’s hand itched to pull the trigger, “What kind of job?”

Javier lifted a hand and scratched at his eyebrow, his eyes falling to the side, “Culebra nests usually don’t get more than a few dozen, at maximum. But, there are outliers here and there. The Lords used to check them when they got too big, but there aren’t any of them left, really.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to run collateral damage?”

“I’m getting there, Lilah, if you’ll listen,” Javier censured her with a frown.

Lilah motioned for him to continue, but held her spot. She didn’t trust him, and part of her wondered if he, too, had hidden fangs. Rafe’s distorted features flashed across her mind’s eye and for the first time since she’d met him, Lilah felt fear. She covered it by pressing her lips together and locking her jaw.

Javier took a step to the side, around the coffee table. He went over to the minibar and grabbed a glass and one of the little bottles, spinning off the cap and pouring.

“Under the new rule—or, rulers, I should say—there has been a kind of peace treaty signed. One faction won’t attack the other, as long as everyone stays on their own turf. But, there are outliers, those who want to bring back the old ways. What I want from you is a permanent solution, so that we don’t go backwards after having fought so hard to make progress.”

Lilah waited for several heartbeats, in case he had more to say, then, “That makes absolutely no fucking sense.”

He rolled his eyes and drained the glass in his hand, “I know. And I can’t make it make more sense without a several thousand year history lesson. What it boils down to is that there are far worse things than what you saw today trying to get into our world. I want  _you_ to  help us close the door so that they can’t.”

She laughed, “How am I supposed to do that?”

Javier lifted a shoulder, brows quirking upwards,  “You already did most of it. I need you to acquire another artifact.”

Lilah’s brain  connected several dots in quick succession. Javier and her sporadic hallucinations were connected, which meant that Javier knew the man who kept interrupting her life,  which meant  she could finally get the answers she wanted. She looked at Javier for the longest time, wanting to call him out, and wanting to demand he give her more information. She pushed it back. Javier had been downgraded to a need to know basis, and he didn’t need to know she’d been seeing a man who alternatively kissed her,  annoyed her, and scared the bejeezus out of her, depending on his mood.

“Alright, send me the details.”

Javier flinched, as if he expected it would take more than that to get her on board, “You’re sure? Once you enter into this, it will be impossible to let you leave.”

She nodded,  Lilah was already down the rabbit hole, but he didn’t need to know that, “I’m sure.”

He set his glass down, “I’ll send you an email.”

“Great.”

Lilah took her eyes off him and dropped them to the ground. She could tell Javier wanted to say more, but he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and gave her a nod, taking his leave without preamble.

Lilah moved to the couch and sat on it heavily  with a huff . She slumped back and pulled the gun and her cell phone from her pockets, setting  them both  on the coffee table. Belatedly, she wondered if she’d made the right choice. Lilah had basically let the only person she knew in the flesh that could provide her with context for her insane visions walk out the door.  She craned her neck to stare at it.

Slapping her hands on her thighs, she rose and stripped. She wanted a shower. The bathroom thankfully remained a bathroom as she closed the door and started the water. Stepping inside, she let it fall over her. Lilah’s life was getting a little too fucked up, although nothing had really changed, outside of the fact that she now knew another species existed that couldn’t be killed with knives or bullets. Which, she had to give herself credit, was pretty fucking weird.

Moving through her routine without really thinking about it, Lilah rinsed the soap from her hair and body before leaning down to  turn off the water. When she turned to  reach for the frosted glass door separating her from the rest of the bathroom, she gave a yelp and pushed back to the far wall.

“How long have you been there?” She yelled, wishing this fancy hotel had, had a towel hook at the back of the stall.

He was leaning against the bathroom counter, and that was about all she could see with the glass obscuring her view. Dark clothes, broad shoulders.

“A few seconds.”

Lilah pushed her wet hair back from her face,  feeling no small amount of embarrassment. She forced the feeling into anger, “You know what? Nevermind, I’ve got questions.”

The amorphous shape shifted, “Ask them. I will answer.”

She hesitated, then thought, _fuck it,_ and barreled full steam ahead, “Are you  a  c ulebra?”

Faster than she thought possible, he was up against the glass, both hands bracing his body, “Where did you hear that word?”

Lilah, having jerked back a bit, her arms coming up to cover herself, tried to keep her voice steady, “I ran into one today. Shot him. Discovered that was just not going to work, and then jumped off a building.”

She could see his head turn to the side a bit, fingers widening on the glass, “You jumped off a building…”

Angry, she spat ,  “That’s not what’s important. For once, answer my question.”

Dropping his hands, he simply said, “I am not.”

Which begged the question, “What are you?”

Lilah heard his sigh, “I have been called a demon, a slave, a master, a lord, and a god. Does this satisfy you?”

“Not really.”

He was silent and unmoving long enough that Lilah began to feel uncomfortable with it. She was wet, naked, and talking to a man through a shower door. She needed a little more equilibrium.

“Listen, go outside, let me get dressed. We can continue this conversation after that. Okay?”

Rather than answer, he simply turned and left, closing the door behind him.  She had the good grace to be surprised for about half a second before she took action. Frantic, Lilah  stepped out and pulled on the camisole, underwear, and shorts she’d brought with her into the bathroom. Wringing most of the water from her hair, she toweled it off so that she wasn’t dripping water all over the place. F or the second time that night , she stared at  a door, feeling the cold from the tile seeping into her feet. 

D id she really want to know what he was? Lilah decided that she did. If he was like Rafe, what then? She didn’t know. He hadn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t put aside the incident in the church. It scared her too much to forget. Setting that aside, she apparently worked in the same organization as he did, for the same people—her brows lifted as she considered that he might actually be the person who signed her pay checks.  That was a knot she wasn’t actually sure she wanted to unravel. Lilah put her hands on her hips and continued to look at the door. She’d been hiding behind it for a few minutes too long and her brain was telling her to rip off the bandage, so to speak.

When  she left the bathroom, she half expected him to be gone.  Disappeared, as he seemed won’t to do. But, there he was, laying on the far side of the bed. He looked relaxed, one arm beneath his head, the other resting on his stomach.  He had no right to look that good when she was freaking out on the inside— broad in a way that made the king size bed look small beneath him . Dark eyes watched her hesitate at the door before squaring her shoulders and stepping forward. 

With careful movements, she crawled into the bed and laid down facing him, tucking one hand under the pillow and the other beneath her chin.  He watched her settle in, then turned to his side. Lilah followed the curve of his jawline, down to the little dip between his collar bones.  Was he tan all over, and did that intriguing patch of hair peeking out from his shirt spread over his chest and down to his navel?

“What’s your name?” Lilah questioned in an effort to take her mind elsewhere.

His expression relaxed just a bit, “Brasa. And you?”

She told him. He repeated her name and it made something warm coil inside her. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from doing something embarrassing, like moaning, or launching herself at him, or both. Brasa followed the motion and she watched his pupils expand, lips parting on an exhale. He reached out and cupped the back of her neck, thumb resting along her jaw.

If he kissed her, she wouldn’t get any of her questions answered. It took longer that Lilah would readily admit to decide whether or not she cared.

“Can you tell me what a culebra is?”

His eyes searched her face for a moment, “What do you know about Xibalba?”

She smiled wanly, “Never heard of it.”

Brasa shifted a little closer and propped his head up on his palm so that he was looking down at her, “It is where I was created. It is where they were made.”

Lilah repeated the word ‘made’ slowly, her brows furrowing. He hummed in assent.

“Culebra are...vampires, for lack of a better word. Blood drinkers. In Xibalba, they were slaves.”

Rafe had displayed an impressive amount of strength and took two bullets like they were nothing more than bits of cotton. It would take something very powerful, indeed, to enslave a whole race of them. Lilah looked him over. He was impressively built, but she had a feeling that there was latent power hiding beneath.

“And what does that make you?”

The hand on her jaw shifted, following the line of her shoulder to her wrist, on the way back, he said, “I was also a slave, of sorts. To a queen. When I was made, she bound me in blood to her will. For a very long time, I did everything she asked. I fought who she wanted me to, killed who she wanted me to, fucked who she wanted me to. At first, I did so blindly. In the end, I did it because I believed in the war we were fighting. I...enjoyed it.”

It was the most he’d ever said to her, and densely packed with more than she thought she could work through in a single night. The long sweep of his fingers over her skin was soothing and she felt her eyes grow heavy. With effort, she regained her focus.

His touch changed route at the top of her shoulder, running down the strap of her camisole. He considered it, tapping gently with two fingers.

“I like this,” he announced. “Is this what you sleep in?”

Lilah rolled with the subject change and looked down and shrugged, “Sometimes.”

“You’re always wearing clothes with thick fabric,” he murmured, slipping his hand around her waist. Her back arched just a little, which seemed to please him. “Every time I see you.”

Lilah blew out a breath and reached out to tap him gently in the center of his chest, “Says the man who wears literally nothing but black.”

His smile reached his eyes, and Lilah drew her hand back to avoid the urge to scrunch the fabric in her hand and pull him down to kiss her. It must have shown on her face, because his smile faded, replaced by intent. Lilah felt pressure at the small of her back as he closed a few more of the inches between them.

“Are you still bound to the queen?” She blurted out before he could pull her fully into his embrace.

Brasa shook his head, deterred for the moment, “No, she is gone.”

“Then,” Lilah started, thinking that he might be angry, but she needed to know, “Why did you kill that woman in the church?”

His jaw clenched a little, “She killed indiscriminately, drained an entire family and left them to be discovered by local police. Bringing that kind of attention to us is unwise.”

Lilah gave a little ‘oh’, her mind forming the picture of the gruesome scene. She couldn’t stop the shudder that went through her as she thought about a whole family being killed, parents and children. There was an unspoken violence in that image that far exceeding her experience or expectations. And, she’d just agreed to be a part of it, in a way.

Brasa pressed her to her back and slid up to mold himself along her side. One of her arms folded into his chest, the other laying across the arm he kept across her middle. God, but he was warm. It took real effort not to roll right back to her side and nuzzle her cheek into it, soaking up all the heat until it melted into her bones.

“I had to make an example out of her,” he continued, eyes on his gloved hand as it ran across her belly from one side to the other and back.

“By killing her?”

He nodded, “A true death. The others will see what waits for them, if they follow her lead. There are alternatives to feeding in this way.”

His hand continued that slow, hypnotic stroke across her stomach. Lilah closed her eyes, focusing on it, feeling herself fall into a sleepy, comfortable place. Lips gently touched her forehead, the tip of her nose, her mouth. She opened her eyes to see him leaning over her, most of his weight braced on the arm next to her ear. Lifting up, she returned the kiss softly, not more than the press of her mouth to his.

Letting her head drop to the pillow, she struggled to keep her eyes open, “’m falling asleep, I think.”

Brasa pushed her hair back, “Rest, querida, we will see each other soon.”

She squinted up at him in confusion, “How do you know that?”

“Call it intuition.”


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah gets more comfortable with the visions she's experiencing. The search for another artifact leads her to an inaccessible target.

It took about two months of research to find the artifact. While there wasn’t a shortage of books bound in flesh in the rare antiquities world, there was only one bound in the skin of a culebra. She tracked it down to a veritable recluse a few towns over and had spent the better part of the last eight weeks trying to get inside his house.

Lilah rubbed at her eyes until she saw spots, drawing on the last reserves of her patience as she read through another disappointing report. She leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling, wondering if she should just drive out there and deal with it, herself. Javier had insisted that she shouldn’t, that she was needed here, but the team he’d hired was striking out left and right. The hermit couldn’t be bought, he couldn’t be threatened, and his security system was top of the line—an uncrackable safe, she’d been assured by experts.

And, Brasa was MIA. Lilah leaned on her elbows. Since that night in the hotel, she hadn’t seen him, but she’d feel him now and again. Pressing a palm to her stomach, a breath across her collarbones, heat radiating from beside or behind her. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him more about the world she was suddenly immersed in. Lilah had read so much about culebras, mostly from books Javier sent her, but nothing about Xibalba. Correction: Little about Xibalba. The only thing that the books seemed to say was that it was like hell, only worse.

Surreptitiously, she’d skimmed the pages for information about a queen, and for Brasa’s name. There was next to nothing. The going theory was that Xibalban rulers were cruel, blood soaked tyrants who killed at will. Lilah spent a lot of time trying to reconcile the soft touch of Brasa to the violence in the books. She tried, and failed. Lilah needed more information.

Still, the job was there, every day. More excuses from the team, no book. Lilah looked up the directions to the hermit’s house, just in case.

This morning was an anomaly. A report came in that told her the hermit had a son. The hermit had a son that liked to gamble. She smiled as she read it, knowing that they could work the son to get inside and get the book. Easy.

Lilah pulled the contact information for his favorite haunt on her phone and dialed the number. She stood and paced while she waited for the other side to pick up. She hadn’t bothered to make the bed, knowing the housekeeping staff would take care of it later. She also hadn’t bothered to unpack. Though she’d been in this room nearly the entire time, she kept her suitcase packed and ready to go when she wasn’t actively using anything inside. Every night, she stowed away her laptop and other essentials. Just in case.

The line picked up, “Hello?”

“Yes, is this Mr. Pickerelle?”

A pause, “Who is this?”

Lilah sat on the bed, and put on her most professional voice, “I represent a loan operation and we specialize in—“

“Not interested,” he cut her off, voice brooking no argument.

Lilah tsked, “I think you are. I’d like to buy one of your debts.”

While she went over the details and got his account information to transfer the money, Lilah leaned over the bed and pulled the complementary notepad from the drawer of the side table. She wrote the numbers down, smiling at the first real progress in weeks.

“Tell me, what do you want with this guy?”

Lilah laughed, “Nothing good, I assure you.”

He launched into an anecdote about squeezing his first victim for money, and Lilah rolled her eyes, laying back on the pillow. Really, she should end the call and hang up, but information was information. She might need it later.

Just when she thought he might pull the story to an end, he went off on a tangent, and she slapped a hand to her forehead in boredom. She debated interrupting him, when a warm weight settled on her thighs. Lilah glanced down and saw nothing, but the heat was familiar. Absently, she reached down, hoping to find something solid. Her hand met only air.

Frustrated, she turned her attention to the call and found her opening to end it, pressing her thumb to the screen with a little more force than necessary. She tossed the phone to the side and looked up at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?”

Lilah didn’t know if saying out loud would transmit the message to him, but she said it anyways. The warmth dissipated after a moment and she clenched her jaw, refusing to feel bad about it. She had a new lead that needed to be explored. It was time to take that on.

Lilah spent about three hours figuring out details over email and then decided that she was going to do it, herself. The guy was easy to hunt down, given that he had no idea he was being followed. People were creatures of habit, whether they admitted it, or not. This guy was no exception. He frequented the same bar at least twice a week and drove a yellow Mustang. Convenient.

Lilah didn’t do much shopping, but she wasn’t going to get into this bar without wearing something nicer than jeans and a hoodie. She bought a tight fitting navy dress and maroon heels, curled her hair, and put on the only piece of jewelry she owned—a gold linked chain that fell enticingly into her cleavage.

The bar wasn’t so much a bar as it was a club. Lots of blue laser lights, music with a thumping base, and dark. Lilah could work with dark. She stepped to the edge of the dance floor, looking for her mark. It was early, and it was possible that he hadn’t arrived yet. She craned her neck, looking over the crowd. Not here, not yet.

Lilah turned to the bar, thinking that she might look more at home with a drink her hand, and felt a wave of dizziness. The air turned hot and the music transitioned to something slower. It vibrated in her chest, forcing her to turn around in search of someone else. She wasn’t in the bar anymore. She wasn’t really sure where she was.

To her right, there was a seating area that was sparsely filled, everyone’s attention on the stage to her left. She looked, too, jaw dropping as she observed a burlesque show mid-performance. The woman was beautiful—beautiful and really, really flexible. Lilah turned her head as she pulled her leg back and around so that it bent gracefully over her head.

Feeling a sympathetic ache in her thighs, she glanced around the rest of the room, looking for something to orient herself. She recognized no one, and it seemed that they didn’t recognize her, either. The few pairs of eyes that she met took note and looked away, far more interested in the show. Lilah was grateful, less interest meant less possibility for questions that she definitely didn’t have the answer to.

She almost went to the bar, but an area lit up in red caught her eye. Focusing, she took a few steps forward, edging around a high table to get a closer look. There was evidently a meeting in progress, several men discussing something passionately. One man I particular snagged and held her attention.

“Brasa,” she breathed, barely able to help herself. After so long, seeing him felt like coming up for air after laying at the bottom of a pool until her lungs burned.

As if he’d heard her, his head snapped up, eyes finding her across the room. He didn’t exactly look shocked to see her, but his brows rose in question. Saying something to the others, he pressed his hands to the table and rose. Lilah watched him stride over to her determinedly, pace quick but not rushed. She didn’t miss the way people moved out of his way, hurriedly stepping to the side. Lilah smirked when she noticed he wasn’t wearing all black this time, opting for a deep green long sleeve shirt alongside his usual black gloves and slacks.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he reached her, his hands already rising to her shoulders in order to draw her close. She went willingly, too glad to feel his warmth again.

Lilah’s brows lifted, “You’re not happy to see me?”

He smiled, “Of course I am.” Then, “Come with me.”

Brasa took her by the hand, leading her deeper into the room, past an ‘employees only’ sign, and through another set of heavy double doors that looked as if they were made of metal. The hallway opened up to a massive room with a single cement walkway through the middle, dissecting a large pool. On the far end was a desk and several chairs. The light, as in the club, was a dim red that seemed to come from the ceiling, though there were no discernable fixtures.

Lilah took in the room, slowing a bit, “Is this your office?”

He stopped and looked back at her, brows together in confusion, “Yes, it is.”

She continued gazing around appreciatively, “Nice digs.”

His head tilted to the side a little, one side of his mouth lifting, “Is that good?”

“Yes,” Lilah confirmed with a smile, “Its good.”

Something like relief flashed behind his eyes. He continued to look at her, taking in her dress, her heels, his eyes dark. She found herself blushing under the weight of that gaze, wanting him closer despite her frustration with him.

“Its been a long time,” Lilah prompted gently, wanting an explanation for his absence, but unsure of how to go about getting it..

Looking contrite, Brasa grasped her hips in both hands and dropped his gaze to the ground, “I know. There have been complications.”

She lifted one brow, “What complications?”

He released a breath borne out of long contained agitation, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on her body, “A faction of my people have been attempting to run a coup. I have spent nearly every waking moment working to keep the peace.”

Lilah couldn’t help the little bit of ire that remained, though the explanation was pretty fucking good, “You could have said something. I started to think that it was all up here.”

She motioned to her head, attempting to convey the paranoia that had crept into her mind with every passing day that she didn’t see him. Passing touches only fueled the doubt, and Lilah did not like to doubt herself.

Brasa gathered her to his chest, resting his chin on her head affectionately, “Please accept my apologies.”

Reluctantly, she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling his scent and feeling tension she didn’t know she had fall away. Lilah wanted to hold onto it, but it slipped from her like water—which didn’t make any sense, because holding a grudge was a skill that she definitely had in spades.

“What is this? Please, explain it to me.” She didn’t conceal the edge of panic in her voice, not caring what that made her look like to anyone who cared to look.

He pulled away, catching her eye. It took real work to keep from falling deep into his gaze, the soft brown barely illuminated by the red light that seemed ubiquitous in this place. Darkness and shadow passed over and through him, making themselves at home.

Brasa swallowed and his glance shifted to the side a bit. Lilah forced herself to remain silent. He’d been open with her in the past when she asked him direct questions, she would give him that opportunity now.

“It thought it was impossible. I thought that demons couldn’t have—weren’t made for…”

She leaned in, resting her hands on his biceps, “For?”

“You,” he finished, the word issued with a little force. “I thought I would never have you. But, when I felt you in the healing pools, it just all fell into place.”

If anything, she was more confused now than she had been half a minute previous. She tried to hold his gaze, but he was still looking to the side. Lilah tried to force a little urgency into her next sentence. She needed to know.

“You’ve got to be little more specific.”

Brasa shifted on his feet, fixing her with an unblinking gaze, his jaw clenching. He stilled unnaturally, breaths coming in a little faster. Leaning down, he pressed his nose to the sensitive place behind her ear, inhaling, “Fuck, you smell good.”

Lilah couldn’t help the little whimper that she made when his mouth opened and he tongued along that little bit of skin. She wobbled a little in her heels, arching to give him more access. Despite the tangent, she liked the electric feeling of skin meeting skin, her body welcoming every touch.

“You still,” she asserted on the tail end of a moan, “Haven’t answered my question.”

Brasa laughed against her skin, kissing along her jaw until he met her mouth, where gave her the quickest, lightest little peck. Lilah tried to follow him when he pulled away, earning herself another soft chuckle.

“I haven’t,” he agreed, “And I did agree to answer your questions.”

“You did.”

Though he leaned back so that he could look at her, he kept his hold firm. She couldn’t have stepped away, if she wanted to—not that she particularly wanted to. Despite her effort to keep focused on their conversation, Lilah couldn’t quite tamp down the urge to run her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, her thumbs resting on either side of his collar. Fiddling with the fabric kept her from using it as leverage to pull him down for a deeper kiss. She’d been way too long without him and didn’t know when she’d get the opportunity again.

Clearing his throat, Brasa attempted to start again, “Do you remember when I told you of the blood bond I had to my queen?” When she nodded, he continued, “This is similar—deeper.”

“Deeper how?”

“You are mine and I am yours,” he said, the words coming out in a rhythm that hinted at ritual.

Lilah frowned, “Are you talking about soul mates?”

He smirked, “Blood is the conduit of the soul.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Brasa rolled his eyes, “I doubt its meant to. But, this is real. Every time I touch you,” he cupped her face, “Kiss you,” he pressed his lips to hers, “Catch your _fucking mouthwatering_ scent. It. Is. Real.”

They stood there for a while, foreheads touching, sharing breaths. Lilah was speechless, her brain working to try to rearrange her whole world around a man who seemed to eclipse everything around her. After several false starts, she just stopped trying.

“Green looks good on you,” she murmured, tugging a bit on his collar.

His chin lowered and he traced two fingers from her chin, down her neck, to the edge of her dress, where he lingered.

“When I saw you tonight, I thought it was another dream to torment me.”

Surprised, Lilah asked, “You dream about me.”

“Constantly,” he affirmed, “You’ve wrecked my concentration.”

Lilah thought he was certainly doing a hell of a job wrecking  _her_ concentration. Her brain reminded her none too gently that she was supposed to be doing a job. Her body was calmly telling her brain to shut the hell up so that she could enjoy this. She rose up a bit in her heels and kissed him, ending the feud entirely.

He groaned into it, and wrapped both arms around her, a move that seemed almost reflexive. Lilah couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Every part of her felt over sensitive and raw, achy.  She pressed her thighs together to try to put a little pressure where she most needed it. The motion brought into sharp focus the fact that she was teetering on the edge of knife. Just a little push would send her to her knees.

A loud banging on the heavy doors sounded, and Lilah gasped with the sudden intrusion. Brasa’s arms remained locked around her. He veered off to the side, mouthing down her neck and to the swell of her breasts. Lilah’s moan was loud even to her ears when his tongue snaked out to lick a hot stripe between them.

The knock sounded again, this time more urgent.

“My lord!” Someone yelled from the other side.

A vicious growl rumbled out of Brasa. It started low and built to one long, deadly warning.  Lilah shivered, though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on why.  The edges of the room began to blur and she could feel the tell tale wooziness.

Straightening, Brasa breathed deeply, his eyes closed. Lilah smiled at the concerted effort he was making to calm himself.  It gratified her to know that she wasn’t the only one wanting more.

“Go take care of that,” she whispered, “I have a job I need to get to, anyways.”

Brasa’s eyes opened and she could see the determination in them, “We’re not done.”  He gripped her chin between his thumb and the curve of his forefinger, “I found you.”

A little thrill went through her at the implication that she’d see him outside of their shared visions , “We’ll finish this later, then.”

Reluctantly, he let her go, taking a step away. Her mouth went dry as she watched him adjust the erection straining against his slacks. A not so little part of her wanted to reach out and palm it, feel its shape in her hand.

The knocking continued and he took a long, final glance at her before turning and heading for the door. Lilah closed her eyes as her equilibrium shifted, and then she was back in the bar she’d started out in. And, to her good fortune, her target had arrived.


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah gets herself into a dangerous conflict, and she finally comes face to face with Brasa.

It had gone wrong. Everything had gone completely wrong. Lilah had underestimated her target and had to run. Her heels clicked on the tile of a back hallway as she looked for an exit. The halls were free of signs and she hadn’t scouted it before deciding to head inside.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Lilah felt real fear crawl up and make its home inside her as she turned yet another corner and saw no back door. Every building had a back door, a fire exit, something. She just kept finding more empty hallways. She rounded another corner and something swung up from her peripheral, hitting her in the temple. Her vision went black. Her body dropped to the floor. Pain ran like a current from her temple down her shoulder through to her arm.

Rolling, Lilah tried to get to her hands and knees only to feel a foot push her down. Hands grabbed her feet and yanked, dragging her through an open door. It closed with a finality that made her squeeze her eyes shut in disbelief.

Her head was pounding. Her heart was pounding. The lights were too bright. She grit her teeth and forced herself to focus. Being scared was okay, but she needed to figure out how to get out of this alive.

_What happened?_

She cried out when his voice sounded in her ear. Heat blazed across her temple. Lilah looked at her attacker. He was big. Really, really big. And he was smiling at her. Behind him was her target.

“You’ve been trying to get at my father,” he said evenly.

Her head lolled a little and the big man slapped her across the face to get her attention.

_Where are you?_

She mentally shouted the address at him as best she could, not knowing if it would go through. The big man slapped her again for her effort.

“Maybe not the face, Mikey.”

Mikey sucked air through his teeth and stood to his full, impressive height. Lilah couldn’t look up at him without wanting to vomit.

“Sure thing, Mr. Lyle.”

Mr. Lyle took a step forward and slid a chair over, “Have a seat, Lilah.”

She pushed to standing and delicately sat, crossing her heels over one another, her hands folded in her lap. Mr. Lyle’s tongue slipped out as he eyed her legs. Lilah kept her sneer to herself.

“Now,” he said as he leaned down to a bag at his feet. “What do you want with this?”

The book was a dull brown, the binding stretched over a thick set of pages. Lilah eyed it, taking in the scales, the texture of it. Mr. Lyle presented it to her for observation.

“I don’t want anything with it,” Lilah answered finally.

Mr. Lyle cocked his head to the side, “You do. You’ve been asking about it. You’ve been threatening about it.”

She breathed deeply, feeling sweat bead at her temples, “I don’t.”

“Mikey, let’s refresh her memory.”

Grabbing her hair, Mikey pulled her head back so that she was staring at the ceiling, one big hand coming up to cover her mouth and nose. She scratched at the hand, nails digging in as her air supply was cut off entirely. Her lips pulled back from her teeth, but she couldn’t get the leverage she needed to bite down.

“How much is it worth?” Mr. Lyle asked, his voice coming from near her left side.

Lilah shook her head, trying to free her face from Mikey’s grasp, her legs uncrossing. Her heels kicked outwards, hoping to gain purchase somewhere. Her chest burned. Lilah was going to pass out, and soon.

“Its expensive, isn’t it?”

She fe lt tears form at the corner of her eyes. Her body jerked, failing to loosen Mikey’s hold. The lights flickered above her as  her vision began to narrow. Sweat ran from her temples down her face and neck. The air in the room compressed over her body, her muscles contracting, knees coming up to her chest  protectively .

“Let up.”

Mikey released her and Lilah sucked in air, body crumpling in the seat as she dropped her head down between her legs. She took several large gulps of air, wheezing and coughing. Behind her, Mikey laughed. Lilah hated the sound of it.

Mr. Lyle grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him, “What. Is. It?”

“I don’t know,” she coughed out, blinking as she tried to focus her vision. Everything was showing in doubles.

He gave her a hard shake and she felt hair come loose from her scalp, “Liar. Tell me.”

Lilah held up her hands, “I’m not lying. I don’t know what it is. I was just asked to get ahold of it.”

Mr. Lyle let go of her hair and Lilah sat back, her hands on her thighs. He had the book open in front of him, and though he looked calm, sweat formed on his brow. The collar his shirt was damp. She doubted that he was sadist, at heart. He didn’t really look like he was enjoying this. He  _did_ look determined.  Determined was worse.

Mikey moved around to her right, standing near enough that he’d be able to swat her down if she moved. She gauged the room. Mr. Lyle was between her and the door. Mikey could very likely snap her neck before she got there.  Lilah was well and truly fucked.

“How much are you being paid for this?”

Lilah hesitated, eyeing Mr. Lyle. Her brain was working at half speed, and she couldn’t get a plan together to distract him. Though she was successful in keeping the panic at a minimum, she couldn’t quite draw upon her mental faculties to keep herself alive.

He dropped the book back in the bag and stepped forward, hauling her up to him. His hands were cold, bony, rough. Lilah grit her teeth, wondering if she could get her heel off to use as a weapon.

“How much?!” He screamed, and Lilah reflexively shut her eyes, a small sound of fear escaping her tight control.

The door slammed open and Lilah flinched. Something grabbed her and threw her bodily across the room. She yelled as she hit the wall and fell to the floor, her hands and knees taking the brunt of her weight. Anticipating another strike, she dropped her head and held up her arm protectively.

A piercing howl reached her, and Lilah looked up in time to see Mikey’s head being removed from his body, a piece of his spine sticking out from his neck. His massive form fell to the floor, first to his knees, then forward with an audible splat of skin. Blood splattered out from the force of it, reaching out towards her in grisly greeting.

Her attention shifted to Mr. Lyle, who was cowering away from a tall, growling being that radiated heat. She could feel it wafting outwards, warming her skin to near scalding. Her breath stilled in her lungs, she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Please,” came the plea, and Lilah knew it would do no good. He’d found them hurting her. She innately knew that he’d show them no mercy.

Mr. Lyle lowered to his knees, hands up in surrender. Brasa grabbed them and shoved his foot into Mr. Lyle’s body. The force of the kick ripped Mr. Lyle’s arms from his body, the tearing ringing in Lilah’s ears. She crawled up the wall until she stood pressed against it, unable to look away.

Brasa moved, shoulders back. He looked down at Mr. Lyle for maybe half a second before her lifted his foot and stomped down on Mr. Lyle’s head, cracking it apart with the ease of snapping a pencil in half.

The only sound in the room was gasp for her finally drawing breath in. She worked to calm herself as Brasa turned to her. Suddenly, he was in her space, though he wasn’t touching her, unsure. She looked to the murdered men and back to him. He very well could have just saved her life. She was both grateful and not a little bit intimidated. Had anyone heard the screams?

The job. Get it done.

“We have to go,” she said finally, using his shoulders to try to direct him. “Fuck. The book, the book.”

On unsteady heels, she wobbled over to the back and hauled it up over her shoulder. When she wheeled around, he was right there with her.

“We have to go,” Lilah repeated. “There are probably others and I think two dead bodies is a little too much heat for us.”

Brasa nodded, taking her hand and leading her out of the room. As they made their way towards the bar proper, he glanced over at her, eyes following the line of her body.

“Are you hurt?”

S he gave a soft humph, “A little, but we can deal with that later.”

The bar was booming, music way too loud, lights flashing, bodies dancing. Lilah felt her stomach turn and she slowed with one hand to her head. Brasa clocked the exit and pulled her into his body, almost lifting her up as he moved. Her heels barely touched the floor, quick steps taking them out into the night air.

Lilah leaned more of her weight into him, noting with amusement that he was still wearing the green shirt. They slowed to a halt near the curb and he pulled out a cell phone, thumb moving over the screen.

“A car should be… there.”

Brasa helped her to a black SUV parked  down the street. She slid into the back seat, conscious of the hem of her dress. Awkwardly, she pulled it down a little, crossing her legs while Brasa settled into the seat next her her and closed the door. The driver put the car into gear and they entered into traffic.

Her mind caught on a little detail and her mouth said, “How did you get to the bar?”

Brasa braced an arm across the back of the seat and shifted to face her, “I ran.”

She blinked, “You ran?”

He nodded, gesturing to the line of cars in front of them, “Traffic, as you can see, is hell. It was faster to run and have the car follow.”

Lilah had, had a lot happen to her that day. Her head hurt, her body hurt, and although she was pretty sure he was sitting in front of her in reality, it wasn’t certain. What was certain was the fact that if she tried to picture him running through town, or towns (plural), she might lose her tenuous grip on her sanity.

“I think I’m gonna have to process that later.”

Concerned, he inched closer, one hand resting on her thigh, the other gingerly tracing the knot on the side of her head. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the adrenaline was wearing off and Lilah was tired. Her shoulders felt too heavy, the muscles in her legs burning beneath her.

“I will call a doctor.”

She shook her head, “I’m scraped up, but I’ll be fine.”

He looked unconvinced, “You’re injured.”

Lilah inhaled. Coffee and caramel. “Nothing a little rest can’t fix.”

When he moved to argue further, she sighed and pressed  one hand into the seat, closing most of the distance between them and placing  her free hand on his chest.

“You got to me before any real damage could be done. Thank you.”

Expression soft, Brasa touched his forehead to hers, “I felt your fear, it became my own.”

There was power in those words, though Lilah had no idea how to parse it. She licked her lips and closed her eyes, letting more of herself fall into him.  Lilah had a passing thought that this might not be real and that she’d wake up in the basement of the bar having been knocked out by Mikey.  Yet, h e’d never been so viscerally with her, everywhere they touched was pulsing with electric static.  The blurriness that usually surrounded their interactions was nowhere to be found. Her world was in acute focus.

The car turned onto an off ramp to the highway moving south. Lilah  reached out and ran the pad of one finger along his jaw, feeling hot skin and stubble. His  Adam's apple bobbed, but he held still, dark eyes watching her every move. The  only response indicative of his focus was the tightening of his hand on her thigh.

“You’re here. I’m here. We’re— _here.”_

Brasa was utterly still, probably letting her come to terms with the new change in her reality. Lilah couldn’t stop staring. She’d been much closer to him not hours before but sitting there next to him in the back seat of the car felt somehow more intimate. He’d said it was real, standing in his office, but no— _this was real_. The center of her being tilted off its axis and began a tight, spinning orbit around him. Unwillingly, she made a soft, plaintive noise.

Spurred into action, he dipped his head down and kissed her. Lilah was sure he’d meant it to be one of the soft, sweet kisses she’d come to expect from him, but she wasn’t having that. Not now. Possibly not ever again. Definitely not in the near future.

She deepened the kiss almost immediately, sliding her hands into his hair and tangling her tongue with his. He made a choked sound in the back of his throat,  hands grasping at her legs to pull them over his thighs so that she was draped across him.  His broad chest leaned forward into her space, pressing against her side. It wasn’t close enough, not nearly. 

Panting, she broke away, gaze focused on his mouth. Lilah could see that it was wet and glistening in the passing streetlight. She swallowed,  a little overwhelmed. When his eyes dropped to her  lips and he made to kiss her again, she leaned back to eye the driver pointedly.

Brasa gave a subtle nod but tightened his hold when she  went to shift back to the other side of the seat. Lilah glanced at him with raised brows, but his attention was on the road ahead of them.  They had pulled off the highway at some point and were cutting through the heart of a small city and into a parking garage. 

Once parked, Brasa helped her from the car as she stood on shaky legs—she wasn’t sure if it was from the violence of her attack or the intensity of their kiss. Either, or both, would be plausible. Carefully, she walked beside him, though his arm at her back  made it veritably impossible to fall. The elevator he guided her to was remarkably upscale. Marble floor, shiny chrome fixtures, gold plated signs. Brasa punched a code into the keypad and selected a floor. Instead of moving upwards, as she expected, it moved down several floors before a soft chime indicated that they’d reached their destination.

T he doors opened and Lilah recognized the club from their last shared vision. A red light coated every surface, music was playing softly. Though it was mostly empty, she noticed that the few people in the room were staring. No hope of going unnoticed now. She clutched the bag and book, going wherever he led— which happened to be right to his office.

Her heels clicked on the concrete bridge through the pool.  At the end of it, he guided her down into a plush leather chair before leaning his hips back against the desk, looking down at her.  She crossed her legs and his eyes followed the motion, mouth parting.

T he doors behind her opened and Lilah turned in her chair to see someone she didn’t recognized rolling her suitcase towards them.  _How…?_ He pulled it right up to the side of her chair and snapped the handle down with a little more force than necessary. Lilah could see him straining against something inside, though she didn’t know what.

“Thank you, Benny,” Brasa muttered, shifting his weight and bracing his palms on either side of him.

L ilah looked between the suitcase and Brasa, eyes narrow. Then, with a sigh, she leaned down and pulled the book from the bag, offering it to him. He took it in a gloved hand,  studying the cover for a moment before tossing the tome haphazardly on his desk. It landed with a thud, disturbing a few pages of paperwork.

“You know, I went through a lot of trouble to get that.”

One side of his mouth lifted, “If I had known it was you going through the trouble, I would have retrieved it, myself.”

She shook her head and laughed, “I’ve been working for you for, like, two years. Why start now?”

Brasa gave a little jerk of his chin, “You’ve been working for me for less than three months, Lilah.” When her brows drew together, he continued, “ Javier has always had side projects.”

“I believe that,” she conceded. “So, it took you three months to figure it out.”

His hands turned over, palms up, “What can I say? I have a lot on my plate.”

Lilah looked to his desk, files stacked one on top of another, “I believe that, too.” Then, “Out of curiosity, what is the book for?”

“To close the portal, so no more like me come through it.”

“Like you?”

“Demons,” he prompted, a rasp in his voice. He repeated the word—softer, lower.

Lilah paused, “You told me you’ve been called a demon, and I’ve taken a little time to read up on them. What makes you different, or better?”

“I have learned,” he began deliberately, “from my masters—former masters. This world doesn’t need subjugation.”

She had to ask, “ What does it need?”

“A little direction, maybe,” he answered with a shrug, “Boundaries, certainly.”

“Boundaries?”

He gave little hum of assent, “Xibalbans and humans don’t play well together.”

Lilah drew back a little, “They don’t.”

Brasa caught her implication quickly, and she saw the flash of uncertainly in his eyes, “You are an exception, of course.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she drawled with a coy smile, “I’m pretty human.”

“You aren’t.” It was said with certainty, no hesitation.

Lilah gave a sharp laugh, “I think I am.”

She’d been human her entire life, with no signs of anything out of the ordinary aside from a peculiar knack for getting herself in and out of trouble.

Brasa lifted one shoulder, “By virtue of being bonded to me, you are not. Not really.”

The casual tone made her eyes narrow. There was not a word that he spoke to her that didn’t mean something, but Lilah didn’t understand. That he was telling her that she wasn’t human made her grasp at any explanation, other than they were both falling into some insane delusion.

That caused her to inhale deeply and let it out slow, “ Then, what does it make me?”

“Mine,” he replied with no hesitation. “And, I am yours.”

She paused, sensing the weight of the words, “You’ve said that before.”

He nodded, “I meant it then, I mean it now.”

Lilah went to rub her temple and flinched. She was likely bruised, her muscles ached with a fatigue that went bone deep, “I think I need a shower and a bed. Its been a long night.”

“Of course,” he said, standing quickly and offering her his hand.

Lilah placed one hand in his and grabbed the handle of her suitcase with the other.  He led her to the back of the office to the far wall. She smiled when he opened a hidden door and pulled her through. The wheels of the suitcase were loud as they walked along the dark hallway to another set of doors. Brasa tapped the keypad to the right of the door and it swung open. He reached in and turned on the lights. 

U nlike the rest of the building, the room was bathed in a warm golden light. A massive bed four posted bed stood to her right, the comforter and sheets black and slept on. The walls were painted a red based tan, the furniture dark wood. There was a large wardrobe, half open, and a dresser. To her left was a door she could see led to a bathroom.

“Whose room is this?” Lilah asked.

From behind her, Brasa said, “Mine.”

She turned and looked at him,  the words she wanted to say dying in her throat.  He was standing just inside the door frame, hands in his pockets, watching her warily. 

“Oh?”

“I would,” he searched for the words, “feel better if you stayed here.”

Lilah couldn’t help cocking her head to the side and asking, “Why is that?”

A breath. “You are fragile.”

Surprised, she  shot back , “I think I’m insulted.”

“Don’t be,” he asserted, taking a few tentative steps forward. “This is a gathering place for culebras and other beings that are dangerous for humans. Until your place is established, I would not want one of my people mistaking you for food.”

Lilah filed that away, like so many things about their relationship, to be dissected when she had a moment alone. It occurred to her that there would be a lot of things that she would need to learn, beyond the pages of the books she’d read. The information in the text couldn’t be compared to real life experience.

“Will you,” she edged, unable to look at him, “Be sleeping here, too?”

Lilah must have caught him off guard because h e paused and cleared his throat before answering, “If you want.”

She nodded, chancing a glance at him. He did look a little surprised, but there was a gratification in his expression that let her know she’d made the right choice.

Brasa closed the distance between them and grasped her arms above the elbows, “I need to take care of a few things. Make yourself at home. The shower is through there.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed her forehead and stepped away towards the door, “Please don’t wait up for me. This may take a while. Get the rest you need.”

Lilah watched the door closed behind him and put her hands on her hips, staring at the floor for several seconds.

“I am in so fucking deep.”

And, she was.


	9. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah and Brasa begin to feel out the boundaries of their relationship.

The bed was just as fucking glorious as she remembered it—or, had dreamt it. Whatever. Lilah turned to her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, sighing in relaxation. God, but it was nice to sleep on something other than a hotel mattress. She wondered if he had one of those memory foam toppers underneath the fitted sheet, the bed molded to her body perfectly. Lilah was warm and comfy.

Reluctantly, she reached over blindly to her phone and tapped it, surprised to see that she’d slept about twelve hours. Her head throbbed a little where she’d been hit, and her hip ached, but Lilah felt rested. She sat up and looked blearily around the room, trying to get her bearings.

Distantly, she’d felt the bed dip beside her at some point in the night, but Brasa was nowhere to be found. She leaned over and turned on the light, scrubbing at her face and yawning as she slid out of the bed.

After making her way to the bathroom, relieving herself, and scrubbing her teeth, she padded back to the bed and climbed in. She could go back to sleep, could possibly sleep the entire day away, if she wanted. The thought was enticing.

A noise caught her attention at the back of the room, another door she’d missed the previous night. Through it walked Brasa. She was shocked that he was wearing a white shirt, though it was customarily long sleeved. Lilah was not shocked that he was wearing the gloves. She made a mental note to ask him about it sometime.

“How did you sleep?”

She smiled, “Amazingly.”

Pausing near the foot of the bed, he took her in. She was wearing a camisole and a faded pair of sleep shorts. There was very likely a bruise on the side of her face. Her eyes felt swollen with heavy sleep. Still, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

“I have been researching about...caring for humans,” he said, finally. His shoulders canted forward as he leaned his palms on the foot board. “You’re supposed to eat when you wake up. Are you hungry?”

Lilah would have been touched by his words if she hadn’t been distracted by the play of muscle as he moved. In black, most of him was hidden or cast in shadow. In white, she could see every dip and hollow. Her fingers itched to traced the strong lines of his body, to explore what he kept in secret.

Drawn to him as if he’d tied a string around her belly and pulled ever so gently, Lilah pushed the covers down and crawled forward. The wood beneath his palms creaked, but he remained still.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Lilah whispered when she reached him, “To look that up.”

She lifted onto her knees so that she was more or less level with him and gave in to the urge to run her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. His eyes were on her mouth, a flush creeping over his cheeks and down his neck.

“If I’m to keep you, I need to know how to please you.”

Lilah very much doubted that he would need any coaching on that subject, if their past interactions were anything to go by. For the sentiment, she kissed him softly. His returning kiss was, if possible, more soft, barely a brush of skin against skin. More than anything, a question. Lilah answered it definitively.

With a low moan, she threaded her arms around his neck, holding him to her, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. Fuck, but she liked the way he tasted. The coffee and caramel of his scent somehow deeper now that she got her mouth on him. Dipping her tongue into him was even better. He met her halfway, and she reveled in the way she could feel his body go tight with tension beneath her hands.

Wanting to know if he tasted this good elsewhere, Lilah broke away, using one hand to tilt his jaw to the side. She mouthed at his pulse point, her breathing uneven as felt his throat convulse. Some inborn instinct made her open her jaw and run her teeth along that patch of skin.

Brasa grunted and both hands came up to squeeze her hips hard. Lilah choked a scream as pain lanced up her injured side. She hissed a breath in, her hand immediately covering the wounded area.

“I’m sorry,” he said, panicked. His hands released her immediately.

She shook her head, “Not your fault.”

“Lilah,” he warned, already touching her again, lifting her camisole to inspect her hip.

It was ugly. Bruised in shades of blue and purple, about the span of a salad plate. Lilah grimaced as he slipped a thumb beneath her shorts and underwear, tugging them down an inch or so.

“I hit the wall a little harder than I thought,” she offered by way of explanation.

Brasa’s eyes met hers, “I threw you into that wall.”

“To keep me from a rather aggressive interrogator, if you’ll recall.”

His gaze dropped back to her hip and he swallowed. She could see the guilt in his expression plainly, it was painted all over his face, his slumped shoulders. She needed to distract him.

“I seem to remember a conversation about food. I’d like to get dressed and have some, if you’re still offering.”

One side of his mouth flicked up, “Come on. There’s a back entrance to the kitchen.”

The back entrance was, in actuality, yet another hidden door down the hall from his room. Brasa guided her through a tight niche and pushed it open. They stepped into the very back of the freezer. Goosebumps rose all over her skin as she navigated around a few crates of produce and into the empty kitchen. Everything was stainless. Stainless and spotless.

“Make anything you like,” he prompted, taking a seat at the massive island in the center of the room.

Lilah was not a good cook by any means, having spent years in hotels with continental breakfasts and in diners on the road. But, eggs and toast were simple enough. She gathered her ingredients, trying to think of something to say.

While she waited for the toast to, well, toast, she asked, “Do you eat?”

“Food?”

Lilah shrugged, noncommittal.

Brasa folded his hands in front of him, watching her rifle through drawers, “I can, though it provides little sustenance.”

Making a happy noise when she found a cookie cutter, she looked at him over her shoulder, “What gives you sustenance.”

“Primarily blood,” he answered. Lilah had a feeling that he’d deliberately left the sentence hanging to see how she’d respond.

She carefully twisted the cookie cutter into the center of the toast, carving out a little circle in the middle.

“Like the culebras?”

“Yes.”

Humming, she reached over and set a frying pan on the stove, turning on the gas burner. While she waited for it the heat, she leaned her good hip on the counter and faced him.

“Do you have to kill when you…” She couldn’t find the words.

His expression carefully neutral, he finished the sentence for her, “Feed.” Then, “No.”

“How often do you have to feed?”

The fingers of his hands flexed outwards, “Every few weeks. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Depends on how active I am.”

Much like humans, she wanted to say, her attention shifting to the pan. She dropped the two slices of toast into it and cracked and egg in to the middle of each, setting the top on the pan.

“You said you’d been working for Javier for two years. How long have been in this line of work?”

Lilah thought, “Hard to really put a number on it. I did a little bit here and there before I really made it my job. I’d say no less than seven years.”

“Javier sings your praises.”

She laughed, “I’ve made him a lot of money. Pretty sure its my pull that paid off his house.”

“Its good that you’ve made a name for yourself,” he said, expression proud.

She lifted the top off the pan, the eggs needed more time, “I guess. Although, that really wasn’t my aim.”

“What was your aim?”

Lilah gave him a sidelong glance, “Make enough to retire. Go somewhere quiet. Maybe pick up a legal hobby.”

“A simple life.”

She repeated the statement, confirming, as she checked the eggs again. They were nicely cooked, still runny. Turning off the burner, she plated the food and turned to sit catty-corner to him at the island.

Brasa eyed her meal with interest, “What is this called?”

“Eggs in a basket,” she said, plucking a fork from a bundle of them stuffed into a lazy Susan as well as a paper towel from the roll sitting next to it.

He watched her eat, eyes amused, “Is this your preferred breakfast?”

Lilah shrugged, “No idea. I usually just eat what’s available.”

Head cocked to the side, he decided, “Then, I’ll have to make sure you have as many options as possible, until you find your favorite.”

Blushing, Lilah forked another bite into her mouth, “Do you have a favorite? Human food, I mean.”

Brasa thought for a moment, “It used to be a meat pie. Easy to make, easy to take with you.”

“And now?”

His eyes met her with a strange intensity, “Marshmallow, roasted over a fire.”

Lilah stabbed a piece of toast and ran it around in the yolk to soak it up, wondering how he’d focused on such a specific delicacy, though she couldn’t argue with him. Roasted marshmallow was a pretty good favorite food.

“What happens if you don’t feed often enough?”

“It painful. Very painful. I would not wish anyone to feel as if their guts are being pulled out of them in one long rope.”

Lilah chewed thoughtfully, trying not to picture the image he was painting, “You sound like you’ve been starved before.”

Brasa made a soft noise of assent, and he looked away, “When Amaru—my queen—was displeased with me, she would deny me blood for months. One time, she restrained me for a year, coming to my room every once in a while to taunt me. Before she released me from my bonds, she pulled my fangs. It took several weeks to regrow them.”

Hand shaking as she held her fork aloft, the question was out of her mouth before she could stop it, “Why?”

“Because,” he replied, “I stared at her too long.”

“That is insane,” Lilah gasped, shocked at the frivolity of the punishment.

Brasa’s mouth twisted in derision, “That is Xibalba.”

She pushed her plate away, “I’m glad we’re going to close that portal.”

Before he could answer, voices filtered in from outside. Lilah, out of instinct borne from years of reacting quickly to shifting circumstances, stood and grabbed Brasa by the arm. She all but hauled him out of his seat and to the freezer, shushing him when he laughed.

They were in the back hallway before she could relax, though she heard shouts of ‘fucking night shift’ through the door before she could get it closed properly. Leaning against it, Lilah pressed her hands to her face and finally allowed herself to laugh. She felt ridiculous, and she was sure that she probably looked ridiculous. Still, a little bit of whatever was coiled up inside her relaxed.

Brasa took her hands and led her back to his room and through to the hidden room she hadn’t yet seen. She marveled as the stacks upon stacks of books inside. There were bookcases lining every wall, filled to the brim. In the center of the room was a plush leather couch and a desk, a chair rolling chair tucked into it.

“I have work that needs my attention, but I’d like you near me. Can you occupy yourself with a book while I work?”

Lilah nodded wordlessly, already heading to one of the shelves and running her fingers along the spines. There must be a thousand books in here, most of them in languages she didn’t know. Still, she looked for a while, pulled one here and there to either read the back or thumb through to the middle, until she found one that might keep her attention for a while. Then, she settled into the couch to read.

Like any good reader, she would lay in one position for a while, shifting a bit, then turn over, shift again, lay her feet over the arm, over the back. Absently, she tugged a strand of her hair, wrapping and unwrapping it around her finger. The story was decent enough, an easy read, until she got to the part where the antagonist was revealed to have been helping the hero all along.

“No…” she breathed, sitting up and then falling back down to lay on her back.

From her left came, “I was wondering when you’d get to that part.”

Lilah rolled her head to the side, eyes wide, “You’ve read it.”

The smile he was holding back widened, “I’ve read all of them.”

“And you didn’t warn me?!”

“Would you have enjoyed it half as much, if I had?”

Lilah stared at the book for a minute, “Probably not.”

“Well, there you go.”

She read for a while more, until Brasa pushed away from the desk and turned off the monitor. He circled around and sat heavily on the sofa, one arm laying across the back of it. Lilah made a mental note of the page she was on before setting the book on the floor and sitting up to face him.

“All done?”

He sighed, “For now.”

“What is it that you do?”

“I run a fairly large medical supplies company. We contract and ship all over the country.”

Lilah’s brows came together, “Somehow, that was not the answer I was expecting.”

He waved away the statement, “My people need blood, a lot of it, and regularly. The company hides the shipments we need to bring in to keep them fed.”

Smart _and_ efficient.

She blinked at him, “Blood bags, that’s how you feed?”

“Sometimes, though its not,” he stopped, suddenly looking uncertain.

“Go on,” Lilah prompted. She wanted him to tell her the truth.

His eyes shifted to the side, “Its not preferable.”

Her brain told her to let it go, but she asked it, anyway, “What is preferable?”

Brasa swallowed and looked her in the eye, “From the source is preferable.”

“Why?” She asked while her mind was shouting at her to _shut up_.

“Its warmer,” he explained, “thicker. Sweeter.”

“Ah.” Then, “Why not feed from people?”

Sitting forward a little, his eyes softened, “We don’t need dead bodies piling up in a centralized location. People will look for us.”

Lilah shook her head, “You said you didn’t need to kill to feed.”

“ _I don’t._ Others often don’t have the control to stop when they’ve had their fill.”

A long moment of silence passed between them and Lilah had the feeling that they’d turned a new corner. A whole host of information had opened up before her and she wanted to know more about it, but couldn’t quite pick a route to travel on. It didn’t matter. They had time.

“There are donors, of course,” he continued, much to her surprise.

“Oh?”

“Some people like the feeling of allowing one of my kind to feed on them.”

She snorted,  “ I’m not surprised.”

His brows lifted in question and Lilah took the opportunity to pull her legs out from underneath her and scoot forward.

She touched his cheek, running her fingers up and over his orbital bone, “I’ve seen enough adrenaline junkies to know nothing is quite out of bounds when they need a fix.”

Brasa held her hand to him, turning to press a kiss to her palm. Her breath hitched and she could feel her heart kick up at the feeling zinging down over her forearm. He pulled her a little closer, until their knees met on the cushion. Lilah’s balance, already precarious, threatened to give out beneath the weight of his intense scrutiny. She wasn’t sure exactly who moved first, but suddenly he was kissing her.

His heat surrounded her immediately, drawing her in. Lilah wished that she’d kept her camisole and shorts on instead of the sweater and jeans she was currently wearing. She wanted to feel his hands, no matter that he was still wearing gloves.

A rumble vibrated through his chest, and she was suddenly on her back, one leg sandwiched between his body and the couch. The other was firmly grasped and wrapped around his waist. His body weight dropped down onto her, pressing her hips open. She winced and choked out a high pitched cry.

Brasa was off her in an instant, on his knees beside the couch before she could blink. She was left staring at the ceiling, bewildered.

“I’m calling a doctor.”

“No, you’re not,” Lilah countered, swinging her legs over the side and regarding him firmly.

His jaw clenched, “You’re hurt.”

“Yes, but I will heal.”

Brasa shook his head, “Let me get you something for the pain.”

“No. I don’t want painkillers. Its just a bruise. It will be better in a few days.”

There might have been further argument, but her stomach growled. How long had she been reading?

“I think I need to feed you again.”

Lilah smiled and nodded, “Three times a day, plus snacks.”

He gave that little half smile that she was beginning to be fond of, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m going to the kitchen. You stay here.”

Lilah watched him go, then leaned down gingerly and picked up the discarded book. Likely, she’d finish it that night. She gazed down at the cover, thumb running along the pages. The last twenty four hours had been… strange, to say the least. But, damn it if she wasn’t looking forward to seeing what happened in the next twenty four.

  
  



	10. Part Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dealing with some unexpected visitors, Lilah takes the initiative.

The band was pretty good, the singer’s voice husky. The music was soft and sultry, bass heavy. Lilah bobbed her head a little to the baseline, a mixed drink in her hand. The cold of the ice contrasted heavily with the heat wrapped around her. Brasa kept her close in the booth, an arm resting over her shoulders. She leaned into him happily, glad for the distraction of the music.

Her body seemed to be consistently aware of him, whether or not he was in the room. Nerves pulled taut underneath her skin, and he had barely touched her. By her count, Lilah had been staying with him a week and their routine was fairly simple. She’d wake up, he would take her to the kitchens for breakfast, they would pass the day either in his private office or he would leave her to her own devices while he took meetings. Food. Meetings. Food. Sleep. Meetings.

Brasa had a lot of meetings. Finance meetings, marketing meetings, committees, payroll, and admin. It all blurred together and, while he would chat with her about his frustrations with the staff, Lilah had exactly zero experience. She could only offer and ear to listen, her hands running through his hair or snuggled into his side on the couch.

Lilah looked up at him, there were other ways she could think of to help him unwind after a bad day. Whenever her hands wandered during an especially heated kiss, he’d slowed her down, ending it before she was ready. Which, she thought, was pretty fucking hypocritical because he’d often grabbed handfuls of her ass or thighs, groaning into her mouth. Lilah wished he’d keep grabbing her, preferably with their clothes off. That way she could stop waiting for him to go to one of the meetings she knew would run long so she could get off in the shower for a little relief.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her temple softly. She inhaled his scent, one hand reaching up to cup his jaw. Lilah craned her neck and kiss the skin beneath his chin, smiling when his free hand wrapped around the bend of her knee, trailing upwards to the hem of her dress.

She’d bought it on a whim a few days back, when his schedule had been particularly full—a deep wine red, off the shoulder number that hugged her hips. When he’d suggested that they go out to have a few drinks at the bar, Lilah had smiled wide. She thought that the dress might finally help her tell him that she was ready for sex. To be fair, she was hoping the she wouldn’t have to be so direct, but it was looking like she would actually have to use her words. _Fuck_.

Arm tightening, Brasa rubbed little circles on the inside of her thigh. She watched him, watching his hand as it traveled higher. Feeling bold, Lilah parted her thighs for him, gratified by the sharp inhale. Fingers that had been lightly stroking flattened and flexed to hold her in position. Lilah held her breath.

His thumb rubbed back and forth in a slow rhythm. Not wanting to break whatever spell had started between them, Lilah forced herself to remain still. She bit her lip to keep herself from squeaking out a whimper when he slid his hand higher, his wrist catching on the hem of her dress and dragging it upwards.

A drop of condensation fell from her drink onto her exposed skin, rolling down. Brasa paused, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Lilah was struck with the image of him following the droplet with that tongue. She couldn’t quite find it in herself to be embarrassed about the needy sound she made. It escaped her on a gasping breath, her hips rolling forward.

Turning her head, she kissed him as deeply as she could given that his arms held her nearly immobile. In a short time, she’d seen glimpses of his strength. Just that morning, she’d lost a hair tie under the massive wardrobe across from the bed and he’d just...lifted it up so she could grab it. Lilah tried not to think what would happen if that capability were unleashed on her, mostly because it made her want to test the limits of it with impunity.

Breaking away, panting, Lilah shifted around to look at him head on, “Let’s go back to the room.” When his mouth thinned in the way it did when he wanted to argue, she added, “Please.”

Nodding, Brasa followed her out of the booth, his expression somewhat bewildered. She took him by the hand and they crossed the length of the bar. When she glanced back at him, she caught movement at the doorway, voices rising above the music.

“What?” he asked, following her line of sight.

The hand she was holding tightened painfully, his shoulders pulling back. The heat she normally associated with him skyrocketed, and the air around him thickened with anger.

In the small entryway in front of the elevator stood a man and a woman, all through of which she recognized. Brasa’s body blocked her view partially, but she could see them arguing with one of the wait staff. What the fuck were they doing here?

Lilah’s attention shifted to Brasa. He looked shell shocked, his lips curling back away from his teeth, growl rumbling. She’d never seen this kind of reaction from him before and it scared her. Thinking quickly, she used her body weight to pull him back towards the door. It took some tugging, but she finally got his attention and he cooperated. She didn’t stop until they were safely back in the bedroom, the door shut firmly behind them.

“What just happened?” she asked, hands cupping his face to force him to look at her.

His jaw worked against her palms, “That was Richie Gecko and _Kate_.”

Her name was forced through his lips with a distaste that  sounded like hatred. Lilah knew that she would have to tread carefully.

“What are they doing here?”

Eyes shifting to the side, he answered haltingly, “I asked them to acquire a ritual knife. I did not know they would be delivering it in person.”

Standing just a little closer, she ran her hands down his neck to his shoulders, “Why does it matter that they brought it, themselves?”

Brasa hesitated, and he shifted on his feet. Lilah waited him out, knowing that he’d come to tell her eventually. It was a ritual all their own.

“Amaru possessed Kate’s body when she climbed into this world. It was Kate’s body that last held my blood bond.”

Lilah felt the air rush from her lungs. When he’d told her that his queen was gone, she had mistakenly assumed that it had happened a long time ago. In this, she was wrong.

“Okay,” she breathed, trying to soothe him. “Okay, you get yourself together. I’ll meet them in your office and stall a bit.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she spun on her heels and left the room, heading for Brasa’s public office. Just outside the door, she stopped and closed her eyes, steeling herself. This was just another job. Just like all the rest.

Pushing into the room, Lilah let her footsteps fall a little heavier, glad for the acoustics of the space. The sound of her heels clicking against the tile gave her momentum and straightened her spine. Richie and Kate were already standing near the desk, a box under Richie’s arm.  The smaller woman was wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt, her hair piled onto her head in a messy bun. Rich i e was in a suit, all black.

L ilah approached with a serene smile, her arms at her sides, “Richie, Kate, welcome.”

Kate gave her an acknowledging nod, Richie barely looked at her. Lilah stepped around the desk and leaned on it, crossing her ankles.

“I’ve been told you have a package.”

Richie lifted one shoulder, showing off the box with a smirk, “S’pose to deliver it directly to Brasa.”

“He’s on his way,” Lilah grit, “There’s a matter that he needs to attend to first.”

Kate was watching her with narrowed eyes, and Lilah did her best to just miss her gaze.  T he look was unnerving, but Lilah drew upon years of similar situations to keep her calm. She offered no further conversation, but kept her expression neutral and placid.

The back door opened and closed, Brasa’s familiar stride sounding behind her. Lilah kept her eyes forward, despite the urge to look. C onfidence, not wariness.

“Mr. Gecko. Kate,” he greeted, moving to stand behind the desk. “You have what I asked for?”

Richie scoffed, “Yeah, I got the knife.  Hope its worth our fee. ”

Though she wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was quirking a brow,  “Well?”

Stepping forward, Richie set the box on the desk. From her periphery, Lilah could see the black of Brasa’s gloves reaching out to draw it to him. He flipped open the top and looked at the contents for a long time. Lilah felt the strap of her heel dig into her ankle, she uncrossed them to relieve the pressure.

Turning to eye her, Richie gave a little laugh, “I see you’re taking your time about it.”

The lid of the box dropped, the sound echoing on the stone walls. Brasa’s head rose slowly, “I won’t insult you by asking ‘to what do you refer’. I will, however, say that you walk a thin line. The treaty is clear about interference with bonds.”

“Not interfering,” Richie shot back, and Lilah could see that he was itching to pull out a cigarette, “Just observing. I waited, too.”

The air in the room went cold, a blast of ice rolling outwards from the desk. Kate moved a step forward and into Richie’s space, his hand slipped back to stop the movement. Lilah gripped the desk hard in an effort to stay exactly where she was.

Brasa braced his weight on his palms, “I think you should see to your bondmate, and I will see to mine.”

Richie backed away and  Lilah’s eyes widened, already seeing the parting shot as it wormed its way to the surface. She  pushed off the desk, standing straight , though there was nothing she could do to stop what was going to happen next.

“At least I _have_ seen to mine.”

Lilah’s eyes closed, resigned. The growl that sounded shook in her chest, vibrating the desk to her left and the chairs at her right. She opened her eyes and glared at Richie’s smirking face, quite frankly surprised that it was still intact.

Kate, bless her, wrapped both hands around Richie’s arm and said, “We appreciate the audience and the opportunity to further solidify peace between us. We’ll see ourselves out now.”

Lilah held her breath until they were gone. Then, she turned and stepped around the desk. Brasa was still leaning on his palms, chin to his chest. She placed a hand at the back of his neck, massaging gently.

“C’mon,” she murmured, “Let’s go.”

He followed her to the bedroom. When the door closed, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I’m going to have to leave tomorrow. I have everything I need to close the portal and I can’t wait much longer to take care of it.”

Lilah nodded, resting her arms atop his, “I understand.”

He sighed into her shoulder, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t. I’ll come with”

Lilah felt him shake his head, stubble rubbing over her shoulder, “Too dangerous.”

That made sense. With another sigh, Brasa let her go and started towards his private office, “I need to run some logistics. You should get some rest.”

“You need rest, too,” Lilah called out to him. “I’m giving you an hour and then I’m coming in there after you.”

She timed him, looking periodically at her cell phone. In the meantime, she changed out of her dress and into her sleep clothes, wiped off her makeup, and read a little bit in bed. When her phone vibrated, signaling the end of the hour, she set the book aside and slid  down to the floor .

In his office, Brasa was staring at a computer screen, tapping on the keyboard. Tension sat heavy in his body. He was hunched over the desk, dark brows drawn together.

Lilah approached ,  giving him a smile when she caught his attention, “Time for bed.”

He flicked his eyes to the screen, “I’m almost done.”

In the last week, he’d come to bed late enough that she was barely awake when he crawled in next to her. When she woke, he was always up and working. Either he only needed a few hours of sleep (entirely possible), or he was avoiding being in bed with her for long periods of time (also possible).  She’d had enough of that.

Lilah stepped in front of him, squeezing between his chair and the desk. He slid backwards a bit to accommodate her. With a pointed look, she shut off the monitor and crossed her arms. Brasa stared at her for a few seconds before his mouth quirked upwards and he stood.

“Alright,” he drawled, “I’m done.”

“Good.”

He crowded her the whole way back to the bed, walking with his hands on her hips. It made for slow going, but Lilah absolutely could not have cared less. She hitched herself up onto the mattress and scooted over until she reached her pillow. Brasa slipped off his shoes and socks, crawling in next to her.

Head cocked to the side, she asked, “Do you have sleep clothes?”

He got comfortable, laying on his side, facing her, “Yes.”

“Why don’t you wear them? To bed, I mean?”

After a week of staring at his gorgeous face and trying to decipher who he was, Lilah was pretty good at knowing when he didn’t want to answer a question. She’d peppered him with enough over the last few days, and he usually answered them. But, the blush that heated his cheeks was new enough that intrigue sparked in her belly.

Shifting even closer, Lilah said conspiratorially, “You can’t be comfy  wearing a button up and slacks to bed .”

T he blush spread down over his chest and she couldn’t resist teasing him a little, “What? Are you afraid that if you relax a little bit, we’ll wake up fucking each other in the middle of the night?”

He stilled in that unnatural way that made Lilah pause, her smile fading from her lips. Her voice, when it came, was low and rough.

“That _is_ what you’re worried about.”

“Lilah,” he warned, sensing that she’d snagged onto the idea.

She leaned over and kissed him hard, pulling away quickly, “ I don’t see why that’s a bad idea.”

He took her hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing her fingertips, “It has been a long time since I’ve voluntarily shared that kind of intimacy with another. I don’t know that I can keep from hurting you.”

She scoffed, “You haven’t hurt me so far.”

Pointedly, he touched her still bruised hip.

“That,” she said, pointing a finger at him, “Was an extenuating circumstance.”

Apparently, he had no answer for that. True to her nature, Lilah pushed forward. She thumbed one of the buttons on his shirt, slipping her forefinger between fabric and brushing lightly against his skin.

“Do you think about it?”

He laughed, “Of course.”

Looking up at him through her lashes, she asked, “What do you think about?”

At this, he swallowed, his lips parting. She could see that he  _had_ thought about it and that  he had an answer to her question. She could also see that he might be stubborn about talking through it.

Unable to continue to look him in the eyes, she offered, “Would it help if I told you what I think about?”

The chest beneath her hand expanded on a quick, deep inhale. She took that for a yes.

Sidling up to him so that there was maybe an inch of space between their bodies, Lilah licked her lips, raising her eyes to his. They were blown wide, the pupils expanding so that just a sliver of the deep brown iris peeked through. She had his full attention.

“You’re going to think I’m a walking, talking cliché, but sometimes,” she began in a small, low voice, “I sit on the couch while you’re working at your desk and think about you fucking me on it. Sometimes, you bend me over it until my cheek is pressed into the wood. Other times, you lay me back and set my heels on it, spreading my thighs as wide as they’ll go.”

Closing the distance between them completely, so that she could feel him pressed against her hip, she finished the thought with her lips a hairsbreadth from his, “Every time, its hard and its deep.”

Brasa’s eyes closed, the word ‘fuck’ coming out in a long, slow exhale.

She chuckled, “ Yeah, kinda.” Tapping him lightly, she reminded him, “Your turn.”

His breath was coming in pants, though he worked to calm it. She kissed the skin exposed by his open collar, saying his name in a way that could only be described as cajoling.

“The shower,” he said quickly, though his voice cracked a bit.

Her brows lifted, and she gave him an encouraging hum.

“That night, when I saw you,” he cut himself off, his hand tracing the curve of her waist. “I think about what could have happened if I’d come in there with you, licked the water from your body. I think about wrapping your legs around my waist and sliding into you.”

He rested his forehead against hers, his breath fanning across her cheek as he groaned, “I think about how your moans would sound in my ear as you come all over me.”

It was a struggle for Lilah to focus.  Shower sex had just made the leap to the top of her to-do list, right after desk sex and bed sex. 

“And,” she rasped, lifting a leg and draping it over his hips, using it as leverage to bring them flush to her. “Do you touch yourself when you think about this?”

“Yes,” he hissed, kissing her deeply.

Lilah carded her fingers into his hair and rocked forward,  she couldn’t seem to stop touching him. Running her hands over his body. Tangling her tongue with his and tasting his skin. Too soon, she felt him starting to pull away, slowing their kiss, though he kept her close— no space between them from chest to where his cock was hardening against her center.  She rolled her hips, dragging her cloth covered folds over its length. 

He gave the smallest, sweetest moan and lifted his head, eyes closed. She stared at the muscle of his neck as he took several slow breaths. Before he could come back to himself and put an end to it, Lilah used the leg over his hip to produce a steady, if stilted, rhythm.

“I want to see it,” she groaned, when he met her with a well timed thrust.

Brasa’s eyes opened in confusion, “See?”

She gave several quick nods, pushing him to his back, “ I want to see how you make yourself come when you think about me.”

Below her,  Brasa’s entire body twitched.  He looked at a loss for words, his jaw unhinging in shock. She kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. 

“Will you do that for me?”

H is cock  flexed below her, but Lilah could see the apprehension in his eyes. She smiled, pushing his hair back from his face.

“Please?”

He took a small breath, “How do you want me to…?”

Lilah stroked his cheek, “However it feels best for you.”

Brasa shifted a bit and palmed himself, the heel of his hand pressing down. He let out a shaky breath and his head tilted back. Lilah ran her nose along the column of his neck, keeping her gaze on what his hands were doing. He’d picked up a slow rhythm, stroking from root to tip, hips circling. She slipped her hand into the collar of his shirt,  touching what little  skin she could.

He was hot, scalding beneath her fingers.  The heat poured out of him, soaking in her clothes and skin. She opened a button on his shirt, kissing the freshly exposed skin. 

Looking up at him from an inch above his skin, she gave a simple command, “Open your pants.”

For the first time, he didn’t hesitate, the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet room. He gave a little grunt as he gripped himself, and Lilah felt her mouth go dry as he pushed the fabric down. Her fingers curled with the want to touch him, but the moment felt too delicate to interrupt.

“Look at you,” she breathed, laying her cheek on his chest to watch.

His strokes were slow at first, the leather catching on droplets of pre-come to ease the movement. Lilah went to reach for the hem of his shirt and he flinched, hips dipping into the bed.

“Its okay,” she soothed, unbuttoning her way upwards and moving the fabric out of the way. She caught his eyes and smiled, “For when you come.”

The look of disbelief on his face, as if he couldn’t fathom that she’d want to think of his comfort made her giggle a little and kiss him. She ran a hand down his chest, her nails catching in the hair that pointed down toward where he was fisting himself.

Lilah lifted onto her hands and knees to get a better look at him—shirt open, pants open, hips moving fluidly. She balanced her body as she straddled one of his thighs. Despite how much she wanted to drop her weight down on him and relieve the pulsing in her core, she maintained her distance. This wasn’t the time for that.

Fuck, but he was beautiful—broad shoulders, strong arms, a plush mouth that she couldn’t resist leaning down and tasting. His rhythm was picking up, little moans falling from his lips. Lilah caught the bottom one between her teeth and pulled gingerly, swiping her tongue over it to soothe the skin. He whined against her, back arching.

Looking down the length of his body, Lilah caught the way he was snapping his hips into his hand, grinding on the upstroke. By the sheer amount of fluid leaking from his tip, she knew he was close. She dropped to her elbows, keeping most of her body aloft.

“I want,” she started, the words caught in the back of her throat.

Brasa slowed, his free hand running down her hip to the back of her thigh, “Tell me what you want. Tell me,  _anything_ , its yours.”

She wet her lips, saying very softly, “I want to put my mouth on you. Just for a minute.”

“Fuck!” he growled, his hand on her thigh tightening, hips squirming.

Anticipation rose up inside her, “Is that a yes?”

He nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Lilah wasted no time crawling down and running her tongue up across his fingers at the base of him to the top. Next to her, his  gloved hand grabbed the sheet for purchase, bunching it in his palm.

She did it again, wrapping her lips around the tip and sucking on it,  eliciting a hiss followed by a low pitched groan . Placing a hand on his hip for balance, she bobbed her head slowly, her mouth meeting his fist and retreating. Over and over—slow, measured. 

He moaned her name  loudly , body twitching, “I’m—close.”

If her mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, she’d have smiled. Swirling her tongue around the tip, she opened her jaw as wide as it would go, pushing his hand away and taking him to the back of her throat.  On the way up, she hollowed her cheeks, her eyes closing at the helpless sound s he was making. He hardened further, and she had about two seconds of warning before both his hands grabbed at her shoulders, fingers digging in hard. 

Lilah drank down what she could, letting the rest drip down his length and onto his quivering stomach muscles. After a moment, she released him with a soft pop, running her hands over his sides as his breathing returned to normal.

Brasa lay there, unspeaking, for long enough that Lilah worried he might be regretting what they’d done. That feeling didn’t last long. He hauled her up to him, kissing her fiercely, their noses bumping. Palming her ass, he held her to him, resting her his forehead against hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Lilah’s smile was wide and satisfied, “You’re welcome. Don’t move.”

She headed to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, running under the hot water and wringing out the excess. Returning to the bed, she wiped down his skin with care, cleaning him of come and the sweat that had formed at his temples and neck.

Tossing the towel on the nightstand, Lilah leaned a hip on the mattress and asked, “Where do you keep your night clothes?”

Lazily, he gestured to the wardrobe, “Second drawer from the bottom, just the sweatpants.”

Lilah brought them to him, helping him to undress with careful hands. She tossed the clothes over the side of the bed, before grabbing the sweatpants and shaking them out. Brasa nuzzled her shoulder and neck, hands pulling her into his very naked body.

She let out a high pitched gasp as he arranged her in his lap, kissing behind her ear, hands gathering her hair to one side.

“No,” she asserted in a breathless voice, “This was for you.”

He looked at her, perplex ed .

“Now you know you won’t hurt me. Now you have something to look forward to once you close the portal.”

To keep him from arguing, she pushing him down and crawled down to his feet, slipping first one leg then the other into the pants and shimmying them up and over his hips. She pulled the covers over them both and reached over to turn off the lights.

  
  



	11. Part Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standing in their bedroom, arms crossed, she fixed him with an angry glare, “Did you have to immolate him?”

“Jesus Christ, Brasa!” Lilah yelled as she stomped into their room.

He’d been gone three days. For three days she’d slept alone in their bed, snuck into the kitchen alone, drank alone, read in his office—alone. When he’d texted her to let her know that he was on the way back, she’d sat at the bar to wait for him.

Brasa had walked out of the elevator to see Lilah pulling her arm away from a flirtatious culebra she recognized as Benny. She was well on her way to politely declining the offer of a drink when Brasa’s familiar warning growl sounded over the music. The room went white hot with his wrath.

Standing in their bedroom, arms crossed, she fixed him with an angry glare, “Did you have to _immolate_ him?”

Lilah couldn’t have screamed if she wanted to as she watched Benny go up in literal flames not ten feet from her. Brasa had just waved a hand and made Benny ash on the floor.

“He threatened you.”

She sucked air through her teeth, “Do you know how many people have threatened me? Just in the last year? Dozens. The answer is dozens. And  _I didn’t kill them_ .”

This was mostly true. She may not have prevented the deaths of a few of them,  but that was beside the point.

Brasa wasn’t looking at her. His hands were on his hips, his jaw defensively tight.  Tension rode hard in his broad shoulders. 

Lilah approached, put her hands on his chest, and tried to catch his eyes. Tried, and failed.

“You told me you didn’t want to be like your masters,” she urged carefully. “You said you wanted to do better. I appreciate you standing up for me, but that wasn’t doing better.”

He sighed, moving to grasp her hips and hold her to him, “ I...reacted poorly.”

“That,” she retorted meaningfully, “Is an understatement.”

Brasa conceded the point silently with a bob of his head. She sighed deeply and stepped away.

“I’m hungry. I’m gonna get some food. Why don’t you unpack?”

Without waiting for further conversation, Lilah made her way to the kitchen. The bar was still about two hours from opening, so she was unlikely to see anyone. She moseyed around the shelves, choosing a can of peaches and opening it into a bowl.

While she ate, Lilah worked through the whiplash of her emotions. She was angry that Brasa had acted so brashly—and, she was irrationally happy that he had. Benny’s grip on her arm was bruising and Lilah hadn’t been armed.  She didn’t want to think about what she might have had to resort to in order to end any altercation between them.  It irked her that she might not have a chance of winning.

She lingered over the bowl of peaches, forking them one at a time into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Sitting on the island, she swung one foot, the other tucked into her body.  He’d described to her on a few occasions the violence of his world, and up until this point, she’d thought that she had a handle on it. Lilah did n’ t like not knowing if she could stand her ground.  If bullets couldn’t stop them, there was no amount of self defense or training that would make her an even match. And Brasa had barely lifted a finger. Poof. Gone.

The door to the freezer opened and Brasa stepped through. He sauntered over to her with care, leaning on the island next to her bent leg.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Freeing herself of her thoughts,  Lilah set the bowl aside and faced him, “Let’s maybe have a different reaction next time, hmm?”

He nodded,  though his eyes were shifted to the side .

With deliberate care, she curled a finger beneath his chin and wordlessly asked him to look at her. He did. It wasn’t guilt she saw in his expression, apprehension maybe. Lilah wasn’t entirely sure he felt that he’d done something wrong, but he was clearly anxious about her displeasure. She pursed her lips and dropped her hand.

“Let’s implement a new policy, hmm? We’ll kill them tomorrow.”

He repeated it back to her in confirmation and she smiled.

“Okay,” she pronounced, patting his arm, “I’ve been thinking about getting back into the field. I’m sure there are a few jobs nearby that I could do.”

Surprised, Brasa questioned, “That’s it? We’re not going to argue about it more?”

Lilah blinked at him, “Do you want to argue about it?”

“...no.”

“Okay, then. We each see each other’s point of view and we’ve come to an agreement about what will and will not happen next time. I figured we were good to go on the subject.”

He ran a hand over his forehead, clearly confused, “That has to be the shortest argument I’ve ever had.”

She shrugged.

Dropping his hand, he regarded her with a fixed look, “What kind of job do you want?”

Lilah shrugged again, “Javier had me running debt reconciliation for a while. I could go back to doing that.”

He considered it for a moment,  “Let’s talk about it once I’ve gotten some sleep.”

She looked at him, really looked at him. There were dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were wrinkled.  His hair, normally combed back from his face was curling at the end s in slight disarray.

“When did you last get some rest?”

He blinked,  “That night before I left.”

Lilah reached out and  instinctively  touched his forehead  in concern, pausing , “You’re cold. Really cold. Like, freezing.”

Brasa’s body temperature ran hot, hotter when he was near her. The cool cast of his skin made her nervous.  She didn’t know if it was possible for him to get sick, but this might be  equitable .

“I haven’t eaten in several weeks,” he offered by way of explanation, one shoulder lifting in nonchalance.

Several weeks. He hadn’t eaten since they’d met in person.

She stared at him, mouth pursed,  frustrated that he hadn’t been taking care of himself,  “ You need to eat.” Then, “L et’s get you fed.”

Lilah hopped off the island and  set her bowl in the sink before returning to him. She took both his hands and walked backwards towards the freezer. He followed with little to no resistance, eyes gliding over her form. 

When they reached the bedroom, she sat him down on the bed, noting how his normally straight shoulder s slumped forward in exhaustion. She stepped between his knees, holding his face and looking down at him. Lilah ran her tongue along her teeth and hesitated.

“I can get you blood, if you’ll tell me where it is, but…” She swallowed back the anxiety and barreled forward, “I could also…”

“Could also?” He prompted, when she didn’t continue.

Lilah breathed deeply, “You could have some of mine.”

Hands that had been resting on his knees, rose to grip the backs of her thighs. H is lips parted as he pulled her closer.  Lilah rested her hands on his shoulders  for balance and waited for his answer.

He swallowed audibly, “You’re sure?”

‘Sure’ may not have been the most accurate word for it, but Lilah was pretty confident that she could do this. She’d never seen them in action, but she knew what the fangs looked like—long, dangerous, deadly. Rafe’s face flashed before her and she shoved it back down viciously. He didn’t have a place in this room.

“One condition,” Lilah said, cocking her head to the side.

“Name it,” came his response before the words were fully out of her mouth.

She dropped her hands to her thighs, fingers wrapping around his thick wrists, “Take off the gloves.”

His lips peeled back from his teeth and he growled, standing and pacing away, one hand running through his hair. Lilah felt the urge to apologize rise up, but she kicked it back. It wasn’t an unreasonable request by any means. She was not in the wrong.

Back turned to her, he tipped his head back to the ceiling, “You have to allow me some defense against you, Lilah.”

_What?_

“What?”

He dropped his head and widened his stance, Lilah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything further. She folded her hands tightly in front of her, willing her feet to stay right where they were. He’d give her an explanation, she just had to be patient.

Brasa rolled his neck and turned around slowly, “For longer than I can remember, I have served a master. If I didn’t touch them, I could just about stomach the things I had to do. I was freed when Amaru—when the bond was broken. And, I had no idea what to do with myself.”

Lilah listened to her breathing, something inside her saying that she needed to wait.

“For months, I focused on healing this human flesh. I focused on organizing the culebras that survived the orders I followed.” He lifted his hands, palm ups up, “And then there was you.”

He moved towards her steadily, hands slipping through her arms to rest at the small of her back. She let him hold her to his body, neck arched so that she could gauge his expression.

“You let me touch you without reservation, you talk to me without condescension,” Brasa’s eyes closed and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “You please me in ways I didn’t know were possible after so long without it—when you...when we…”

He was  breathing hard against her skin, arms tightening to keep her near. Lilah reached up and held the back of his neck, trying to wordlessly offer comfort. The man was breaking down in front of her, body trembling.  One thing was very clear, this was m uch deeper than the gloves .

“You give and give to me, and now you want to keep giving,” his voice was no louder than a whisper.

Lilah pressed her cheek against his, breathing in his scent. She kissed his skin softly, swaying a little on her feet.

“You won’t let me, but I want to serve _you_ ,” he murmured, “ _Tell me how._ ”

Brows drawing together, she massaged his neck and shoulder  and tried to get her bearings.  S he realized that he needed an anchor, something to help direct him. A feeling of humility filled her chest  at the thought that he would let her be that anchor, and she had to draw deep breaths to stabilize her emotions. 

“Policy number two,” she stated, hand massaging his neck, “If you don’t want to do something, you have to be honest about it and you have to tell me immediately.”

It was the least she could do, ensuring that no matter what she asked of him, he could tell her no. Blind obedience wasn’t something she wanted, but it sent a little thrill through her that she might be able to command him— a man who could draw literal fire with his hands.

Rising, Brasa cupped her face in both hands, “Querida, what do I do with you?”

She smiled, grasping both his wrists, “What do you want to do with me?”

His expression went slack, pupils dilating dangerously.  Eyes skittering across her face and body, Lilah got the distinct impression that, while he certainly had ideas, he had no idea where to start. The cold of his hands seeped through the leather and her mind automatically switched gears.

She cleared her throat, “Let’s start with getting a meal in you, and then we can discuss options.”  After a moment, she asked, “Where do you usually...take it from?”

Thumbs moving along the column of her neck, his reply was matter of fact, “Wherever is easiest, or most accessible. Generally the wrist or throat.”

That made sense.

“But,” he continued, and Lilah perked up in interest. “For you, I want it from here.”

His hand lifted from her neck and fell down to the inside of her thigh.  Lilah sucked in a breath, blushing  as he gripped her firmly.

One side of his mouth lifted, “Is that okay?”

“Uh huh,” she breathed, leaning into him.

Brasa’s eyes widened, then narrowed to slits, black flooding outwards from his pupils to encompass the white. Lilah had seen those eyes before, set in a face covered in blood. She couldn’t stop the way her heart pounded in her chest, or the shakiness of her breath.

He hadn’t moved, but she could tell that he wanted to. Lilah tried to take a step back, but was held in place by a nearly inaudible growl. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head a few times slowly.

“Before,” he bit out, “You need to be ready for what the venom will do to you.”

She flinched, “Will it hurt?”

“No,” a deep breath, “Its meant to keep you pliant, so you won’t fight me.”

Lilah thought about it, “Like a sedative.”

“Not quite,” he countered, head tilting to the side. “More like a stimulant.”

S he had never taken anything more than a few opiates and the occasional joint. A significant portion of her job was a result of bad decisions made by people who were either dead drunk or high—sad, dumb stories that kept her from taking team mates up on their offers.

“Okay…” she said with a slight edge, suddenly nervous.

He smiled, and she caught two sets of sharp teeth that hadn’t been there before, smaller than Rafe’s had been, but looking no less dangerous.

“Its different for everyone,” he said against her mouth, already guiding her back. “But, the general reaction is positive. It’ll feel good for you.”

L ilah’s knees hit the bed and buckled. She sat, eyes upturned. He knelt before her, hands pulling off her shoes and socks.  Lilah balanced on her palms when he reached up and unsnapped her jeans, sliding them from her legs and tossing them aside.

“Up,” he prompted.

Crawling back to lay on the pillows, Lilah watched him sit on the edge of the bed and take off his own shoes and socks, setting them next to hers. He turned and ambled onto the bed, resting on his heels between her legs. She squirmed under his watchful gaze as he rolled up his sleeves, folding forward to cage her in.

Lifting up, she kissed him briefly, falling back to the pillows, “Gloves.”

Lilah thought he might refuse, but he pushed from the mattress and slipped them off one by one, throwing them over the side of the bed. She didn’t know what she expected, but he had nice, normal hands. There was no reason that he should hide them. Not anymore.

Brasa stared at her, hands hovering over her thighs, his eyes following the line of her body to rest at the waistline of her underwear. Gently, he traced a line across the exposed skin between it and her t shirt. She shivered, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to keep quiet.

With every pass, he grew more bold, flattening his palm on her skin. With the other hand, he pushed up her shirt until it caught below her breasts. She gripped the comforter below her as he leaned down and kissed her sternum. A little moan vibrated against her as he mouthed down her belly, tongue dipping into her navel.

When he reached the fabric  of her underwear, he ran his nose along its length, breath hot against her. Her hips shifted restlessly despite her efforts to keep still, and she heard him chuckle. Adjusting his weight, Brasa stretched his legs out behind him, the width of his chest spreading her wide.

Lilah watched him through lidded eyes as he kissed both thighs, moving back and forth slowly. The feeling of it zinged through her and she wondered why she’d waited so damn long to make this particular offer.

Finally settling on her right thigh, he looked up at her, expression asking for permission. Lilah nodded, bracing a little for whatever would come. He nuzzled the skin, tongue swiping a long line across it. Then, his jaw opened wide and Lilah felt the press of his teeth.

They were sharp, she knew they would be. It took a second or two before she actually felt the pain of them breaking her skin, a bit more than a pinch. Her autonomic response kicked in hard and she grabbed his shoulder, curling in on herself.  She felt him pull  deeply on the bite, his arm wrapping around her other thigh to hold it still over his shoulder.

Heat zipped through her veins, stemming from the bite, running up to her heart to be pumped out to the rest of her body. Lilah’s muscles relaxed and she fell back to the bed, trying desperately to catch her breath. She might have said his name, but she couldn’t be sure. Nerves that she didn’t know she had came to life, firing on all cylinders. A moan ripped from her throat, ragged.

Eyes rolling back into her head, Lilah couldn’t  do much more than gasp . She writhed, trying to get pressure where she needed it the most,  her pulse throbbing through every muscle .  He was holding her too wide to get any real friction and it was driving her crazy. 

“Please, _please_ ,” she groaned, head tossing on the pillow. 

Her pleas earned her a growl and an even stronger pull from his mouth, his tongue soothing the sting when she hissed through her teeth. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d described the venom of as a stimulant. She felt wild with energy, unable to lay still. Pleasure was flooding her system, sending her so high that she couldn’t stop if she wanted to.

Careful of her twitching limbs, Brasa ended the bite and press ed his hand to it. She could hear his deep, halting breaths, her eyes squeezed shut.  He shift to the side, palm still holding her thigh as he  laid his body to along hers.

Hushing her, he said, “It will peak soon.”

Her voice high and reedy, Lilah nearly shouted, “Peak?”

Brasa hummed, pushing the hair from her face. Lilah opened her eyes to see his handsome, inhuman features hovering over her.  She gripped his shirt in one hand, reaching down to thread her fingers through his on her thigh.

“Please,” she sighed, pushing her face into his chest, unable to form the words she needed to express her request.

D esperate, she tried to pull at his hand, knowing that she’d come if he’d just slip his fingers beneath her underwear and—but, he resisted her. She dug her nails into him in retribution. 

The feeling intensified, and her back arched off the bed, her mouth opening in a soundless scream. She couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t stop the convulsions of her muscles. Everything in her world constricted around her core as it pulsed, empty and wanting.

Lilah’s body shook for several minutes as she came down, sweat beading on her brow, eyelids fluttering. Brasa cooed at her, saying words she didn’t understand as she tried to put the pieces of her mind back together.

When she finally lay lax on the covers, she watched him lazily bring his palm to his mouth. It was slick with her drying blood. He licked it slowly, making sure to get every drop. She didn’t have the energy to think, much less attempt to make any sort of comment.

When she did try to speak, her throat was raw from screaming, her voice a harsh rasp, “Holy shit.”

Brasa smirked down at her, his eyes returning to the deep brown she was so familiar with, “How are you?”

Lilah smiled tiredly, “I’m good. That was good.”

He looked inordinately pleased, “You’re so beautiful when you come.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m a mess.”

And, she was. Sweat had pooled beneath her and she could feel how slick she was between her thighs. There was an echo of pleasure still pulsating through her body. Despite how her muscles protested, she turned to face him.

“How are you?”

Smiling, he kissed her softly, “You fed me well, querida.”

A sudden thought struck her, and Lilah dropped her eyes to the button she was fiddling with.

Brasa wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, “Ask your question, Lilah.”

She shook her head, “Its stupid, just a stupid thought.”

He huffed, “None of your thoughts are stupid.”

Lilah rolled her eyes again, “You haven’t spent time with my thoughts. They can get pretty stupid.”

Running a hand down her body, from waist to thigh and back, Brasa fixed her with a serious look, “Ask the question.”

Feeling shy, she lifted one shoulder, “I mean, I guess it doesn’t really matter, but I can’t help but wonder what I, you know, taste like.”

Smiling wide, Brasa’s brows rose, “Is that it?”

Lilah frowned, gesturing around with one hand as if to say, ‘I told you it was stupid.’

“I suppose,” he drawled with a thoughtful expression, “The best way to describe it is that you taste very much like the way you smell.”

“Which is?”

“Like roasted marshmallows.”

Oh.  _Oh._

Brasa continued to lazily pet her, his touch alternating between light and firm. He seemed to be testing out how she felt, seeing what he like d (and, by proxy, what she liked).  Lilah wasn’t quite sure if it was after affects from the venom or if it was just because he was touching her, but her body was shaking itself awake  once more  and tak ing notice.

Leaning over, Lilah opened up one of the buttons of his shirt, pressing a kiss to the skin. His touch faltered for half a second before starting up again. Encouraged, she did it again, and again, until he cupped her jaw and kissed her deep, tongue lapping at her.

She carded her fingers into his hair, giving it a gentle tug. He moaned grabbing at her and flexing his hips into the cradle of her thighs. Lilah could feel his erection straining his zipper, the material catching on her clit and eliciting a gasp.

The kiss grew hotter and Brasa wrapped his arms around her, both hands pushing beneath the material of her underwear, forcing the material low over her hips as he ground himself against her.  Impatient, Lilah hooked her thumb into the waistband and shoved them down, kicking the fabric off. 

He helped her with her t shirt and bra, licking along her collarbones, sucking the skin hard enough that there would be a bruise later. Then, he seemed to catch himself, and he pulled away, eyes caught on her breasts. He kneaded them, kissing each with something akin to reverence.

Lilah rolled him to his back and straddle d his waist, pulling his shirt from his pants and unbuttoning it the rest of the way. He lifted up, letting her pull it from his shoulders.  Though she’d seen him naked three days before, Lilah marveled at him. Sculpted muscle, smooth, tan skin. She laid a hand on his chest, just a bit overwhelmed.

Taking pity on her, Brasa  placed a kiss below her ear , pulling her hips forward to rock against him slowly. She whimpered, the friction delicious.  Bracing on her knees, Lilah rubbed against him shamelessly, her eyes closing with the feeling.

He seemed to be happy to remain like that, letting her soak the front of his pants through,  but Lilah wanted to know what it felt like to have him inside her . With shaking fingers, she opened his fly and cupped him. He groaned against her neck, thrusting upwards.  She wrapped her fingers around his girth, giving a hard stroke.

“ _Lilah_ ,” he called out, covering her wrist and stopping the motion.

She looked at him, noting that his expression was just this side of afraid, Lilah released him and placed both hands on his biceps.

“What’s policy number two?”

His posture relaxed almost immediately.  He rubbed her thighs, pulling her to him. Lilah pulled back, eyebrows raised in question.

“I want this,” he said, a little breathless.

Lilah searched his expression for sincerity before nodding, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She smiled, “Okay.”

Suddenly, she was on her back, landing with a little ‘oof.’ Brasa braced himself on one hand, the other ridding himself of his pants.  He kissed her hard, pushing his hand beneath her hips to angle them upwards. Lilah smiled against his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling him reach down and line up his cock against her opening.

He groaned as he pushed inside—slow, inch by inch. It seemed like forever before he bottomed out, filling her exquisitely. Lilah let one leg fall to the bed, using her heel to gain enough leverage grind against him.

Brasa gave a little noise a pleasure, stirring inside her, “Fuck, I knew you’d feel like this.”

He dropped more of his weight on her, arms slipping underneath her shoulders to hold her still as he gave a deep thrust. And another. Her head tipped back as he picked up a rhythm, his cock dragging against her walls.

“’m not going to last,” he moaned, eyes closing tightly. “ _Need it_.”

Lilah kissed his shoulder, “You don’t have to last—you can come.”

Shaking his head wildly, Brasa grabbed her thigh and hooked it into the bend of his elbow. The shift in position opened her up wide, and his thrusts angling deep. He hit something that sparked lights behind her eyes and she arched into it, a high pitched squeal passing her lips.

Leaning onto his forearm, he slipped a hand between them, thumb circling her clit. Lilah sank back into the pillows, unable to do much more than take what he was giving her. Fire burned down the length of her spine, her muscles shaking with the exertion.

Above her, Brasa’s hips faltered, a low rumble sounding in his chest as his cock twitched inside her. He ground against her with a sharp yell. Lilah could feel the heat of his orgasm as he pumped into her, filling her. With a harsh groan, he pulled out, fingers slipping inside. She couldn’t help the hiss as he curled them up, the heel of his hand grinding against her.

“I want it,” he grated against her ear, “Give it to me.”

_Ah, there!_

The orgasm blazed through her, forcing a cry from her throat. She keened long and low, hips rolling to keep him deep in her. Their combined juices coated his fingers and the tops of her thighs. Lilah rocked her hips against his hand until the tremors subsided, her body falling lax.

Gently, he pulled his fingers from her, and Lilah just caught him sucking them into his mouth before she passed out.


	12. Part Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilah and Brasa initiate the bond.

Lilah was staring at him. She knew it. He knew it. She didn’t much give a fuck. He was working late, again, and she was trying (and failing) to read on the couch across from his desk. The novel held no appeal, though she’d been interested in it maybe an hour before. Her brain had snagged on a thought and it wouldn’t let her go. She’d tried to suppress it, but even she knew it was a losing battle.

Apparently, Brasa knew it as well. She heard him push back from the desk and circle around it to the couch. He lifted her feet off the cushion, sat down, and placed them in his lap. Then, he fixed with a look that said, ‘spill’.

Tossing the book to the floor, Lilah chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to phrase it in the least offensive way. After a few long moments, she decided that there was no way to say it nicely. She would just have to say it and hope he didn’t get angry.

“What did Richie mean, when he said you were taking your time? You know, that you hadn’t _seen_ to me?”

T he memory of that interaction popped up in the silent moments, when she was near sleep or doing something innocuous like showering or standing in the elevator. She couldn’t get her mind around the way the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, the cold that Brasa had exuded. It irked her that Richie knew something she didn’t.  That, and the stupidly smug look on his face as he’d said it.

F ingers that had been drawing errant circles on her ankles paused, “The simplest explanation could be that we hadn’t had sex.”

_Could be._

“But,” he continued, “He meant it as a jab about how I hadn’t finished the bond.”

The bond.  It was the thing that they circled around almost constantly. Brasa had alluded to the depth of it a few times , when she’d pressed him about how they’d shared visions all those months ago.  Even now, if she concentrated, she knew where he was in the building, knew that she could reach out to him, if she really wanted to. 

A few day’s previous, she’d been out shopping and had felt him ask her to come home. He was missing her. Lilah had paid for her purchase, a lovely bottle of wine highly recommended by the shop owner, and had made the trip back to the bar. Brasa had been waiting for her as she stepped off the elevator.  He’d leisurely walked her through the many doors between the bar proper and his bedroom, and then he’d not so leisurely undressed her and pulled her into his plush bed.

Sitting up, Lilah swung her feet to the floor and scooted over to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “ Why’d you get so mad about it?”

His jaw worked, “ I wasn’t mad. I was insulted.”

L ilah  tugged on the sleeve of his shirt,  smoothing a wrinkle, “Insulted by what?”

He took a long time to answer, choosing his words carefully. Lilah knew that he didn’t like to talk about his home, what he had done before her, what he might be forced to do to maintain status and control, should he be challenged. She also knew that he would let her in on the details he felt should be shared with her, if she had patience with him.

“It would be expected that I would have tied you to me as soon as possible, made it impossible for you to get away.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Why?”

Looking down at her, Brasa slipped an arm around her  shoulders, rubbing a hand down to her forearm , “Its in our nature, Lilah. Xibalbans are all...possessive, selfish beings. To have a bondmate all my own is the epitome of fulfilling every basic need I’ve ever had.  For most, it would be insanity to wait to finish it, to assume the ownership that is my due. ”

Lilah’s head swiveled so that she could look him in the eyes, “You don’t treat me as a possession.”

The was true. He didn’t. When she’d asked to return to work, he’d helped her find a few jobs that paid well and supported her going out to do them—though he’d been firm on overnights. Brasa wanted her home, sleeping in their bed, at the end of the day. He’d even let her pull Chewie in on a few jobs, when the need called for it.

He leaned down and kissed her briefly, “The reality of the situation is quite the opposite.”

She smiled, “Look at you. Such a sweetheart.”

He rolled his eyes good naturedly , “Only with you.”

“As it should be,” she replied primly. Then, “So what does it mean, ‘finishing’ the bond?”

H e sighed, reaching over to grasp her hand, toying with her fingers, “Its a blood exchange. Yours for mine.”

“You’ve had mine—a lot, if you’ll recall.”

H e was always so very careful about his bite, checking in with her for pain afterwards. But, once he sank his teeth in, injecting her with venom, it was over. He’d drink deeply, holding her down, sometimes with just one hand. The other might be holding her open to him if he was between her legs, or guiding her hips against him, if he’d taken from her neck. In any case, Lilah would usually end up crying out her orgasm, her mind completely blank. It might take her a moment to come back, but she usually opened her eyes to his proud, affectionate gaze. 

Brasa laughed  lowly , leaning over and kissing her temple, “I recall.”

“But, you don’t want to give me yours?”

He shook his head and, in a quick movement, dragged her legs over his thighs, pulling her closer, “Its not about want. Blood bonding is permanent. What I _want_ is for you to know what you are doing.”

Lilah’s head cocked to the side, “Do you think I don’t?”

Another shake of his head, “No. But, I don’t think you know what eternity means.”

She frowned, “What does that have to do with it?”

“I told you,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, “It’s permanent. One life bound to the other. I’m Xibalban, Lilah, we don’t die.”

_Ah._ Well, that explained the hesitation. Lilah pressed her forehead into the curve of his neck, watching as her threaded their fingers together, palm to palm. She thought about what that kind of bond would mean.

“If I asked you, right now, to finish the bond, would you?”

He hummed in the affirmative, and she felt him warm beneath her, a sure sign of his agreement.  He was always hottest when he wanted something, skin burning with it. Lifting her head, Lilah caught his eye with a meaningful look. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, dropping her hand to cup her jaw.

“I’m definitely abiding by policy number two.”

Brasa searched her face for dishonesty, apparently finding none. Then, saying nothing, he kissed her forehead and helped her up, guiding her to their bedroom. With careful hands, he set her on the bed and sat next to her. From somewhere on his person, he produced a blade.

“Give me your hand,” he commanded gently.

She did, watching with wide eyes as he tipped the metal to her skin and pressed it firmly. Her face must have shown her confusion, because he smiled wide.

“We both know that will happen if I use my teeth.”

Fuck, but she knew exactly what he meant. If he bit her, it would be over, no question.

Lilah blushed, “You’ve been thinking about this.”

His smile held, “Of course.”

Bringing her fingers to his lips, Lilah watched as he touched his tongue to the little pearl of blood. Her heart kicked up as her drew the digit into his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue around the tiny wound. With a wet pop, he pulled her free. Then, without preamble, he nicked his forefinger and offered it to her.

Lilah felt him tremble as she licked the droplet clean from his skin, her mouth filling with a familiar copper taste. She marveled at the way the wound closed almost immediately,  the skin knitting together with nothing left behind.

“It is done.”

Her eyes flicked up to him, “Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

She huffed out a breath, “Well...that was remarkably easy.” Then, “I don’t feel any different.”

Tilting his head to the side, he answered, “It’ll grow with time.” Then, “The more blood shared, the more the bond will grow.”

Lilah huffed a little laugh—always so careful. She looked down at her finger, the wound clotting, a little pulsing pain remaining.

“Still, that took nothing to accomplish,” she said as she returned her attention to him

One side of his mouth lifted, “I expect its meant to be—to encourage more bonds.”

That made a lot of sense. A difficult or painful process would lead to less bonds. Although she’d been confident when she’d asked him to move forward with it, Lilah didn’t know if she was ready to contemplate eternity. Probably best that she didn’t.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, “What do we do now?”

He shrugged, “Whatever you want to do.”

The options were, literally, infinite. They could do anything. Go anywhere. And, as long as they kept their people in check, they wouldn’t be bothered by anyone other than the brothers Gecko to maintain the treaty. The feeling was as intriguing as it was odd.

She was silent for a while,  then, “ How do you feel about breaking and entering?”

  
  



End file.
